Time Travel and Sandwiches
by W. Kenseyton
Summary: The story of Alba De Tamble and Pete Hale. Their ups and downs, and the various events in their lives.
1. Shakespeare and Starcraft

_A great way to unload stress in the middle of the week:)_

_A short oneshot I came up with in Physics today:) _

_I don't own anything: Audrey Niffenegger does:)  
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Sunday, November 15, 2015, 3:30pm

Peter: I hate Shakespeare. I mean sure, I love his work. I like his style, his crude yet not so crude sex jokes. They must've been a riot back when people actually understood them. I like Shakespeare until I have to write about _why_ exactly I like his work. Right now we're working on "Much Ado about Nothing", I read it in one sitting. I can probably tell you anything, any little detail about the play. But Mr. Rodgers asks me to write an 800-1000 word paper about it...my mind draws up blank.

After about two hours typing in catchy yet stupid opening sentences I did what any other sensible person would do. I played Starcraft. Okay, fine. Not the most sensible thing to do. Or productive. But right now I really just wanted to bang my English teachers head through a door.

Then I heard a dull thud behind me. Great. _She _was here.

"Clothes under the bed. November 15, 2-0-1-5." I said not even bothering to look around.

"Thanks…" I could hear her looking under the bed and pulling clothes on. Weird. I can still remember the first time I saw her.

It was a very similar situation. I was sitting at my desk doing my Math HW, it was a really rainy day and I was 13. The age when boys begin to realize that cooties are just a ploy that parents make up so the kids stay away from each other. Very tender age. Not exactly the right age when an 18-year-old girl shows up in your room naked.

"From the future my ass" I first thought when I saw her. Two days later, I believed her when a series of her bizarre predictions came true. My cousin in D.C. would get a spot as a TV news reporter, my neighbor's friend from France came over and she was a freaking math genius, and, despite not studying, I would get 99% in my Math exam. The first and last time I would exceed in math. When she came back I begged her for more from my future. She didn't budge. She only told me so I would trust her. And I have ever since.

"Watcha doin'?" she asked. I spun on my swivel chair and saw her dressed in Tommy's extra large I-heart-NY sweatshirt and grey MIT sweatpants.

"You couldn't have gotten anything else?" she said flipping her hair out of the sweater.

"Tommy left me all his 'fat clothes' no way in hell I'm gonna wear them…my mom would noticed if I stole her stuff…she keeps an inventory…I know…messed up…and I'm sorry but I don't wear flowers and bunnies."

"You're telling me I'm wearing your brothers 'fat clothes'?" she said looking down at her grey ensemble.

I shrug "I washed it." I watched her plop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling lamp. She was probably looking at the Buzz Lightyear sticker I had stuck there when I was 7.

"When're you from?" I ask.

"2022"

"How old are you?"

"20…"

"I meant…how old are you _now_?"

"Oh…" she said, facing me "Let's see…2015…two years your junior" Somewhere, she was 14. I might as well ask…it was a habit:

"Where are you…_now_?"

She just smiled "THAT would ruin the surprise. You never get tired of asking do you?"

No. "When do we meet?"

"Few years…"

"Where?"

"Can't tell you."

"I hate that you're like that."

"Like what?"

"Secretive."

"It's part of my responsibility…as a CDP. I would have to kill you if I told you too much." She said winking. There was that silence. I watched her. The sun on her pale thin face, her dark eyes, her long hair almost brushing the carpet.

"Have you listened to it yet?" she said smiling at me.

"Of course…"

"And…"

"I wish my grandma could sing like that…"

"I wish I could sing like that."

"You probably sing amazing."

"I can sing alright. YOU can sing like my grandma."

I felt myself turn red.

"I … no… I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered that I sound like a chick when I sing." She laughed and chucked my pillow at me.

"You know what I mean, twat!"

And we laughed. We talked about my favorite songs on the record, how she had been practicing new violin pieces and wanted to perform in public more often but was scared she would vanish in the middle or something. I wouldn't mind that. Especially if a performance was going really bad.

She smiled at me.

"You're hungry." I said reading her expression.

"Yep."

"Cookies or sandwich?"

"Sandwich, puh-leeeez."

I threw my pillow back at her, and made my way downstairs to get her a sandwich. My mom was reading some politician's autobiography when I came in.

"How's your paper?"

"Fine…" I muttered shuffling around getting stuff for the sandwich.

"You want me to do that for you?" she said eyeing me carefully.

"I'm fine…" guiding my knife as it applied peanut butter to the bread.

"Make sure you…"

"Yes, mom." I said cutting her off before the spiel about putting everything back exactly where it was and making sure I washed the knife twice and dried it. So, with her sandwich and milk in hand I made my way back to my room. Only to find the grey workout clothes on the bed, and no person from the future. Guess she had gone back. I put the milk on my desk and took a bite from the sandwich. She'd be back. Alba always came back.


	2. Peanut Butter and Soy Milk

**Because I felt like writing more of this. Its quite refreshing, actually**:) **I feel I should write more. Read and Review please.**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS and a HAPPY NEW YEAR!:D Enjoy:)  
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Saturday, July19, 2043, 12:30pm

Alba is 12

**Alba: **Oh, no. I have no idea where I am. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be at home, with mom, making pie. I feet so stupid when this happens. When I can't control myself. I need more practice. But this is no time to freak out. I'm in a well lit room; the clock reads 12:30 in the afternoon.

The windows in the room are large, lighting up the entire room. The walls are sky blue rubbed with some white paint to tint it. I am sitting on a queen sized bed; there is a cabinet just opposite of it. I climb of the bed and made my way to the cabinet. Yes, perfect.

Sweaters and socks are folded neatly in the first drawer. I pull a pink sweater on; the drawer under it has shorts and jogging pants. It looks warm out so I choose gray shorts which hang down to my knees. Just then I hear the door open. I spin around, my mind formulating something to say to whoever was there. I had two options, bolt out one of the windows or explain myself to whoever this was.

He was probably in his early forties. There were strands of white hair mixed with his brown. He was wearing glasses with thick black frames and a blue t-shirt with khaki pants. And he didn't freak out. He just stood there; shocked at first. His surprised expression soon turned to a smile. I freaked, he must be some kind of pedo. So I ran for the window.

"No, wait…wait…" he said stepping forward "Alba, wait. I'm your friend." He had grabbed my elbow. I turn to face him, "What?"

"Yeah…I mean, in the future."

"Oh…" He lets go off my elbow and smiles. "Prove it." I mutter. He raises his eyebrows and smiles. "Okay…well you're grandma was a singer her name was Annette De Tamble, her husband was a violinist. Your mom is an artist; her name is Clare Abshire-De Tamble. And you got your time traveling gene from your dad, Henry. Your comfort food is a peanut butter sandwich with strawberry soy milk, and you hate the smell of French fries. Makes you dizzy."

"Okay…" I say. That's all I can formulate. He tucks his hands in his pocket and says "So…would you like a peanut butter sandwich with strawberry soy milk?"

He smiled at me lightly. I shrug and nod, he then steps aside and guides me through the house. And it's a big house, bright. The sunlight streams through the large windows and bounces off the light wood floor, it catches the glass of the various picture frames hung on the walls. I point to a familiar one and say "My mom painted that…just yesterday." The guy looks at it and nods.

Once down the stairs he turns off into the kitchen, it's just as bright and homey. Outside is a large lush garden. There are several lemon and orange trees, bright flowers and a small fountain. I sit down on the wooden bar chair he gestures to, and then he goes about making a sandwich. "What's your name?" I ask as he smears peanut butter on the wheat bread.

"Peter Hale…everyone calls me Pete."

"Oh…"

"Oh?"

Whoops. Did I say that out loud? "I mean…you don't look like a Pete" He looks up at me, quizzically and smiles.

"What is a 'Pete' supposed to look like?"

I consider this for a moment, twisting a strand of my hair. "I guess…a rocker guy could pull of 'Pete'- you know with a sick hair cut. Or a fat guy with a bald spot. Seeing as you're neither…"

"Well…I am really happy I'm not a fat guy with a bald spot. What do you think my name should be?"

"Peter…Thomas…maybe David."

"Those are so tame." He says plopping the sandwich and milk in front of me. I shrug "You don't exactly scream mohawk."

**Pete:** "You don't exactly scream mohawk." She says. I laugh and sit down across from her. She looks so young. Then again she is really young. Maybe 12 or 13. "When're you from?" I ask.

"August, 2014"

"What we're you doing?"

"Baking a pie with mom."

"Hmmm…a raspberry pie?" She looks up at me, startled.

"Do I tell you that? I mean…in the future or something? My future?"

I smile "No, I guessed. It was either that or a blackberry pie."

"We know each other well then?"

"Yes…we're really close. You become my best friend." She looks at me thoughtfully, slowly chewing her sandwich. Then she takes a long gulp from the milk. I know what she's about to ask me. I hope she doesn't. I want her to vanish and go back to her raspberry pie.

"Do we…get married?" Damn. I wish she hadn't.

**Alba: **His smile fades. I knew I shouldn't have asked. My cheeks begin to burn slightly and I look down at the sandwich. Stupid Alba. "I'm sorry" I whisper to the wheat bread and peanut butter "I didn't mean…I was just curious." He's really quiet; I don't expect an answer so I take a small nibble from the sandwich.

"No, Alba. We're not married" He mutters, then turns to clean up the knife and peanut butter which he had left on the counter. There's something about the way he says it. Something pained. I don't want to question it; I'll know what happens soon enough. He said: "We're not married." Does that mean we don't get married? That at the moment we're not married? Am I dead? Or maybe it means we just never did…never felt that way. That's good. Knowing that kind of stuff will make you feel trapped anyway.

**Pete: **Maybe I should clear things up and explain? Why not? Because she'll find out soon enough, that's why. I turn to her, to check if she's still hungry. But she's put down the sandwich and is staring at it, confused. I know perfectly well what's about to happen. "Caramel ice cream and raspberry pie is heaven." I say, she looks up at me and smiles. Then she's slipping away...and she's gone. Leaving a pile of clothes, half a glass of milk and a tiny portion of the sandwich.


	3. Henry and Ellie

Thursday, January 11, 2024, 3:30pm

Pete is 25

**Pete:** Holy crap it was cold. I exhaled, long and steady, and saw the mist form in front of my face. New York is just as freezing as Nantucket, if not more because of the grey building landscape. I slip on a patch of ice but catch myself just in time. Straightening myself and adjusting the gym bag slung over my shoulder, that's when I feel a fist grabbing me from an alley.

I'll admit it. I'm a wuss. I am all talk and no walk. So when a lithe fist grabs me and shoves me up against the wall, I'm totally freaking out. The fist collides with my stomach and I double over, gasping for lost air. I get a couple more hits in the face then I'm on the ground and the mugger's….taking off my jacket. The first thing I think is- "Son of a bitch, I'm gonna get raped by a dude." But I manage to pry open my right eye, which is swelling really fast, and instantly recognize the mugger-slash-rapist-guy.

"Holy shit…wait! Wait, Mr. De Tamble….Stop! I have clothes in my bag!" He stops and stares at me, confused. He's probably in his late thirties. And he looks just like Alba. My arms are held over my chest and I'm breathing rapidly. "I…" I stammer out "I know you…I mean…your daughter…" He grabs the collar of my jacket and pulls me up, sticks my face right in front of his. He's a lot more brutal than I thought he'd be.

"What's her name?" he growls

"Alba Abshire-De Tamble."

"Her birthday?"

"September 6, 2001."

"And her mom's name?"

"Clare…" He lets me go so suddenly I don't find time to support my neck so my head bangs into the ground. "In the bag?" he says turning away from me. "Yes…" I say, rubbing my face. I lie on the ground regaining my breath, pulling myself together; I hear the bag unzipping and he's pulling on some clothes.

"How do you know her?" he asks, stretching out his hand and pulling me up.

"Uhm…kind of the same way you met Mrs. De Tamble." He doesn't let go of my hand, his large eyes stare me down. "What's the year?" he asks. I shift uncomfortably "January 11, 2024."

"How old are you?"

"25…sir."

"Hmm…" he says thoughtfully, letting me go "What did you say your name was?"

"Peter Hale."

"Peter Hale, are you going out with my daughter?" I lick my lips…can I lie? I don't know what to answer…what to say. I don't know where Alba and I stand. I've never known.

"I'll be honest with you, sir. I have no idea."

He nods, slowly "So where are we?"

"New York." I say.

"Well…seeing as you know my daughter you probably know we time travel. Yes? So, Peter, is there any food nearby?"

"Yeah…there's a McDonald's right down the road. I'll treat you."

He smiles and pats my shoulder "Thanks. You're a very gracious host to someone who just beat you up…sorry about that by the way." He picks up my gym bag, saying that he might as well carry it, and we go off looking for the fast food restaurant. When we get there, Henry orders a Big Mac, large fries, large coke, a two salads and a chocolate sundae. I can't really stomach anything so I just ask for a cup with a lot of ice. The cashier guy is staring at me like _Dude, what the hell happened to your face?_ Henry takes his food and finds an empty booth. We sit down across from each other and he begins eating. I take the cup and press it against my eye.

When he finishes eating he sits back and looks me over.

"I think…we've met before." He says wiping his hands with a napkin.

"Several years ago…for me. You looked about…twenty-ish."

He closes his eyes and rubs them "You're the swimmer guy?"

I smile "Yeah."

He laughs and says "Good thing you can swim…you're a terrible fighter."

"Yeah…" I mutter, shaking the ice cup and pressing it to my lip.

"Where're you from...originally?"

"Nantucket."

"Seriously…?" he asks.

"Yeahp."

"New York is a whole different world."

"Uh-huh. If I were jumped by a naked guy in Nantucket then there would be a lot more people to help me out, you know?"

"True. How long have you known Alba?"

"Uhm…I met her when I was 13…she was 18. She first met me when she was 12 and I was like…40."

"Time travel is awfully confusing, isn't it?"

"Awfully."

"But you're used to it, by now?" I take a moment to answer.

"I guess. It's not…really something that's easy to get used to." Just then a girl with bleached blonde hair and bright red glasses edges over to us.

"Excuse me…" she whispers, nervously. Henry and I both look up at her.

"Yes?" he asks nicely.

"Oh…uhm…" she turns to me slowly and says "My friends and I were just wondering…are you…Peter Hale? The singer? The actor?" I stare at her for a few seconds, unable to proceed. I smile and nodded slowly. She gasps and turns to her table and nods, then she looks back to me and says "Hi…OhMyGosh…I…my friends and I are huge fans."

"Thank you." I mange to say. Henry is looking at me quizzically, a small smile playing on his face. The fan girl continues "I'm Ellie." She holds out her hand and I shake it "Peter..." I say jokingly. She laughs "Is it okay…if my friends and I get a picture with you?" Then suddenly all her friends are there, introducing themselves: there's a Sam, Josie and Belle.

"Oh…" Josie says "What happened to your face?"

I struggle for a moment "I…got…mugged." They all gasp and say "Oh, no." or "How terrible."

"Yeah…but…Mr. De Tamble here…" I say turning to Henry "saved me."

Sam turns to him "Thank you, Mr. De Tamble. You just saved one of the best performers of all time." Henry smiles and says "Anytime."

"So…uhm…" Ellie looks at her camera then back at me.

"Oh…okay. Sure." I say standing up "I mean if it's okay with you having a picture with my swollen eye." They giggle nervously and say they don't mind. Henry volunteers to take the picture. I smile. He clicks. They pull out notebooks so I can sign them. While I'm doing this they talk about how they were at my Christmas show and Josie saw me in 'Miss Saigon'. I ask what their favorite song was…you know being as nice as possible, trying not to mind the pain in my head. An after effect of being banged up Henry De Tamble's trained fists. This takes about 5 minutes, they smile and go back to their table and I take a seat and press the ice to my temple.

"What are you…" he says, good naturedly "Some kind of celebrity?"

Hmm….how does one answer that? I smile and shrug. How very vague.

"I think…I'll be going soon." Henry says. We both stand and make our way outside and I lead him to another alley behind a dumpster. He shakes my hand.

"It was nice seeing you." I say.

"You too." He says "Take care of Alba."

"I will" And then he's gone, my blue track suit on the cold ground. I pick it up and stuff it into my bag. It's only then I realize I'm hungry. Greasy burgers aren't really my thing so I make my way to a nearby diner and get a BLT and orange juice. I sit back and look out the window. And I see her. She was wearing her favorite coat, her dark hair was tucked up in the grey bonnet I had bought her last year, and the scarf was her mother's. Alba. I wanted to bang on the glass and ask her to join me. But the recent fight we had flared in my memory. So I sit and watch her look through her purse for her cell phone, it must be ringing.

But Henry said: "Take care of Alba." And I said I would. She found her phone and was texting away, still rooted to the spot. It was as though the Aphrodite and the god of technology teamed up and we're saying _She needs you and you need her. So grow a pair and ask her to join you._

So I knocked on the diner window and she turned to me. At first, she looked annoyed like she didn't want anything to do with me. Then her eyes caught my swollen one and popped lip. She thrust her phone into her pocket and ran into the diner.

"What happened to you?" she asked sitting down across from me.

"Your dad."

She smiled "Oh. How was it?"

The waitress comes and plops the sandwich and juice in front of me. She orders a salad and a chocolate milk shake. Oh, Alba…how strange thou art. I begin to tell her about how I spent the last hour. She's smiling the entire time. Our fight completely forgotten.


	4. Over a bike and through a window

**Hey:) Merry Christmas! I'm not gonna have internet for the next couple of weeks so I made this chapter as long as possible:) A tadbit more profanities in this and extra...stuff. Enjoy and have a blessed holiday! Happy New Year as well!

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Friday, October 6, 2017, 4:15 pm

(Pete is 18, Alba is 21)

**Pete:** The lock to my bike was jammed...again. I bang it against the chain several times before it finally unlocks itself. Gabe stood by, laughing the entire time.

"Hahaha...." I say, sarcastically, jamming the broken lock and chain into my bag.

"You should seriously buy a new one." I don't answer. Save for a couple of cars, we were the only people left in the High School parking lot. I climb on my bike and am about to get going when I hear someone call my name.

"Hale!" I turn around and see Brent Roberts heading towards me. He's the typical American Dream. Sharp freakishly handsome good looks (according to the girls...not me), broad shoulders and one hell of a foot ball player. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but there's only so much one can do. I turn to Gabe and see that he's turned as green as a Granny Smith Apple on his shirt. Gabe Samuel, however, is the typical American...Geek. Long and lanky, curly red hair, acne problems, braces, thick glasses, a brain like Eistein, and no fashion or social skills.

I don't know why a big ass football player like Roberts would want to talk to me, or Gabe, unless it involved sticking our heads in the toilet- which he peed in. The memory must've been playing in Gabe's brain. "Sorry, Roberts. I'm not in the mood for a wash in the toilet. Even if your golden urine is involved." I say turning back to my bike, Gabe looks like he's about to faint.

"Dude...no. It ain't about that." Brent says patting me on the shoulder. It's then that I notice his two goons, dumb and twice as dumb, aren't flanking him.

"Dude, the word 'ain't' ain't a real word." I answer back, emphasizing the 'ain't's. There I go again, all talk.

He looks uncomfortable "Suppose you know that. You're...uh...real smart."

"You know I can juggle too? The other week I was in the circus juggling pineapples whilst standing on a dancing bear that was eating a clown." Oh...my...god. Stop talking. I can hear Gabe intake a large amount of air.

"Uhmm...what?"

"What?"

"Look...uhm...you're also a real good singer..."

"Erm...like Josh Groban good or Michael Crawford good? Coz I'm trying to get a Phantom of the Opera concert thing." Jeez, I want to staple my mouth. He stares at me. "Thanks." I say, simply.

"Sure. Anyway...yeah. My sister's gonna get married next month...and...and the lead singer of the band she likes like totally backed out. And she heard you sing last year...you know at the Christmas thing....? Yeah. She was asking if you could sing in the wedding...so...."

Oh. Totally not expecting that. He continued "Yeah. She's in town if you wanna talk to her."

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah...my house...you know..."

"Yeah. I know...uhm...yeah. Tell her that I'll think about it. I guess I'll drop by your place tomorrow or something."

"Kay. Cool. See you, Hale." Then he lumbered off and got into his car and drove away, pulling down the window and waving to me. I waved back. When he was out of sight Gabe finally spoke "Holy St. Jupiter's Androids."

"Okay...don't do that." I say.

"You're gonna sing for his sister's wedding..."

"I didn't say I would."

"But you have too...otherwise...otherwise he will kill you like in front of the school or something."

"No...he will not."

"In front of Nessa."

"I'm gonna go now." I get on my bike and try to erase the thoughts of being pummeled in front of the entire school...and Nessa Banks.

_Later:_

After dropping Gabe of at the dentist I realize that I need to be home in 10 minutes or I'll be in serious trouble. So I am biking as fast as I possibly can, bitter about not having a car to make my life easier. Just as I turn into my street I come face to face with a car. Actually face to butt, since the car is backing out of a drive. I try to swerve to the right, but it's backing up too fast so I still hit it. And fly off the bike, roll - head first - on the closed trunk, and slam my face on the pavement. What a movie moment. I hear someone scream and instantly recognize her voice. O, I am fortunes fool. I pull my arms up around my face...as though it will make me invisible. But her hand is on my shoulder.

"Oh, my god! Are you ok?- Trevor, I told you to slow down! - Are you hurt?" Vanessa Banks. I find the courage to look up at her. God, she's beautiful. An old Hollywood starlet with elegant blonde curls and large sky blue eyes.

I pull myself up "Yeah...I'm fine." Shit, my lip's bleeding. I press my sleeve on the wound.

"Pete, I am so sorry." she says, rubbing her hands together. She knows my name. Well...we did grow up in an island of roughly nine thousand people on it, she should know my name.

"Yeah...it's fine...I'll just be going..." I say turning and walking to my bike. Smooth, the inner voice in my head says. Her older brother is standing at the driver's door, scratching his head.

"Sorry, man." he says. I nod. I pick my bike up and find that she's standing in front of me.

"Take care...okay? Put some ice on it." she says, smiling.

"Okay." I mutter.

"Sorry again."

"No it's...uhm...yeah...bye..." Sure, Pete, you can talk your mouth off to Brent Roberts but you can't say anything to Nessa Banks. Brilliant.

"Bye..." she whispers. I go a bit slower, due to the pain in my head. I manage to get home....5 minutes late, but what can you do? I quickly pull my bike into the back shed, run into the house and up the stairs to my room. I can hear my mom calling me

"Peter Matthew Hale! You are exactly 5 minutes and two seconds late! You better have a good explanation!" she yells.

"I got hit by a car, okay?!" I yell back. That got her.

"What?! Get down here?! You could have internal bleeding! Let's get to the hospital! Linda...my keys!"

"I'm fine, okay?!" I slam my door shut and almost get a heart attack when I see Alba climbing through my window.

"What happened to your face?" she says. She's wearing the clothes I left in the shed for her, rain boots, black jeans, a red sweat shirt and a denim jacket.

"Uhm...what...did you just...get here?" I pant, trying to catch my breath.

"Seeing as you're out of breath I gather that you did too." she plops down on my bed "You should put something in the shed so I know the date."

"October 6, 2017. It's a Friday." She suddenly looks up at me.

"Were you asked to sing at a wedding?"

"Yep."

"You should"

"Are you gonna be there?"

She smiles and shrugs. "Maybe."

"Okay. I'll do it, then." I sit at my desk "Anything else coming up that I should know about?"

Her smile fades. There's a strange glimmer in her eyes. "October 6..." she whispers.

"Yes..." I say cautiously "Is there anything you wanna tell me?"

She hesitates and stares down at her hands.

"Alba..."

"No...no...there's...nothing. What...uhm...happened to you?" I know pestering her for the future won't help. She won't tell me a thing. I change the subject and tell her about how I got hit by the Banks' car. She laughs and shaker her head. Then someone knocks on the door.

"Peter..._tawag ka ng nanay mo._"(Peter, your mother is calling you) It's Miss Linda. She's lived with us ever since I was a baby. Miss Linda Ruiz, I call her Tita (Auntie) Linda, goes home twice a week to her grown up son on the mainland, and goes home to the Philippines - her home country - every Christmas and Easter. When she's with us she helps with shopping, cooking and cleaning the house. There are times I wish she was my mom. When we're alone in the house together (which is often) she teaches me Filipino, the only language aside from English that I can speak without sounding like an idiot ( this secretly pisses of my Welsh grandparents- dad's side), and knows everything about me. Except Alba. I don't think I can tell anyone about her just yet.

"Mom calls." I say, irritably.

"You should go." Alba says, lying down on my bed "I'm kinda dizzy. I just wanna sleep."

"You want me to sneak some food up to you?"

"Sure..."

Just as I'm about to leave I hear her say "Peter...be sweet." After being forced to the hospital by my neurotic mother, I take the sandwich Tita Linda made me up to my room, telling them I'll eat it up there. Seeing as I am not hungry it's for Alba. But all that's left are her clothes. It's sad to waste food so I eat it anyway.

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Friday, December 1, 2017, 6:30 pm

(Alba is 23, Pete is 18)

**Alba:** Lucky me I landed in one of the back closets of the church. It must be sometime in December, seeing as the Nativity costumes are out. I pull Mother Mary's dress on . Looking outside I can see the small streets and figure it'll take 15 minutes to get to Pete's house. On the way out I spy some lockers. Perfect. There's a safety pin attached to the sleeve of the blue dress, I pick the lock easily and find a pair of socks, ballet flats and a pink cardigan. I pull them all on and open another one. It looks cold out so I know that I'll need something for warmth.

I hit the jackpot once I pop open the third locker. There's a skiing bonnet and thick track pants; I tuck the dress into the track pants and use the back door out. I take off at a fast walk, hoping that no one will see me. I make it to Main Street, and there's no one on the streets. Because its freezing, the seawind stings my nose and in a few minutes I can no longer feel my face; and I am pretty sure that there's snot dripping down my nose, so every few seconds I wipe my face with the pink sweater.

Soon I find myself standing infront of a small cafe. There are a bunch of teenagers inside, I recognize some of their faces from Pete's High School Year Book. They're all shaking their heads, sadly. Their moving lips forming words like "Sad" and "Tragic". Something terrible punches my gut and I walk away quickly, scanning the streets for a newspaper. Peeping out of a trash can, I spy one. The date reads: December 1, 2017. Oh, crap.

I take off at a run, no longer caring who sees me. Soon, Pete's waterside house looms large infront of me. The seawood fence his father put up partially blocks the view of their home. There's no car in the driveway or any sign of life in the house, but I know Pete's home. Miss Linda, their housekeeper, will be there too. But only Pete should see me, so I sneak around the back and dig the key out of the gravel. Placed by Pete right under the stone turtle for me. I always found the fence his father had put up pointless, since you have to use it to get to the beach path way that runs behind their home. Yes, the Hales have a personal beach.

Keeping low I make my way to the patio. There's a net of flowers which hangs off the first ledge, Pete's idea so it would be easier for me to get into the house unseen. His mother thought it was a wonderful idea since he told her she could hang flowers off it. The flowers get in my way, but I'm used to it. His window is partially open, I push it up even more and climb in.

The only light in his room comes from under the door leading to the main hall, and the last few rays of sun coming through the window I just opened. His dark blue curtains are drawn, I'm nervous since I know they're always pulled back. I pull back the cloth and my eyes take time to adjust. But Pete's right there, unmoving. I knew it.

He's spread out on his bed, staring up at the sloped ceiling blankly. Pete makes no move to acknowledge my presence. I know what's just happened. The black hoodie makes his skin seem paler than usual, and not the normal pale- a gray pale, like a dying person. The only color on him are his red Chucks and swollen eyes and nose. There is, of course, the huge dark stain on his pale blue polo shirt.

I approach him slowly "Pete..." I whisper.

His head turns to me slowly. I feel goosebumps form on my arms. It's like I'm in a horror movie, talking to a friend who is actually possessed by demons. It's his eyes that scare me. The pale blue lost to the redness of the veins. "You could've told me..." he mutters, I can barely hear him.

"I...I couldn't. It wouldn't have helped. There was nothing you could do."

"Nothing I could do?"

"Even if you knew...or you tried to stop it, it would've still happened. She still would've died."

"Nothing I could do?"

"Pete...please understand." I approach him and sit on his bed.

"I could've....done something."

"No...stop...there was nothing you-"

"Nothing I could do?!" he sat up quickly "I could've talked to her! I could've hugged her or thanked her....or...bought her lilies! I could've told her I loved her and she wouldn't have died thinking that I didn't give a fuck about her! That's what I could've done, Alba! But you didn't tell me!... You should've told me." his face, drenched with tears- eyes burning with rage, was inches from mine. I couldn't answer. A sob caught in my throat. "You should've told me....you should have." he fell back down on his pillow, facing away from me, curled in fetal position. His back was shaking.

"I'm sorry." Is all I say. I touch his back, he doesn't move away. I hear his sobs and lie down beside him, pressing my now wet face against his neck, putting my arms around his shoulders. There are heavy footsteps outside, knocking on the locked door, it's Miss Linda "Peter...hijo...open the door. Are you ok?" her voice is thick with concern. I wait for Pete to answer, but he doesn't. So I stay silent as well. "I'm just downstairs...ok? You want me to make you ensaymada?" he still doesn't answer "Ok...I make you ensaymada and chocolate. Come down when you're hungry, ok?" He stays silent and I can hear Miss Linda's footsteps fading away as she makes her way downstairs to prepare Pete's favorite food.

I'm not quite sure how long we lie there. His sobs die down eventually, but we remain unmoving. We are Romeo and Juliet, frozen in a tomb of sorrow. The smell of Miss Linda's baking wafts into the room, Pete's breathing has slowed down. I whisper "You wanna talk about it?" he doesn't answer. Maybe he's asleep, I begin to pull away when he answers. "No." I don't say anything. He turns and faces me, his head resting on his folded arms. He looks me over and says "You look ridiculous."

I laugh. "I landed in the church closet. I had to improvise."

He takes a moment to say anything. "I finally met you."

I have to think before answering "Oh...right...the wedding."

"Yeah." I'm about to reply when he suddenly says "So...we don't get married."

I close my eyes "Oh, right. I told you."

"Yes. You weren't exactly...all too...welcoming... I guess is the word."

"Sorry."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"Did you ever think about it?"

He frowned "No...I mean...not in a..."

"Girly way?"

"Yeah. It's just...sometimes you talk about your mom and dad...and I think about it."

"Do you like the thought?"

"I guess. I wouldn't mind."

"Mmmm..."

His already soft voice drops to a little more than a whisper "What if...future Pete...what if I lied?"

I consider what he says, searching his eyes carefully. "Can I tell you a secret?" I say, the volume of my voice just as soft. He nods. "I think you lied too." He blinks, taken aback by my answer. A smile creeps into my lips and I brush hair from his brow, I rest my hand on his face and stroke his cheek with my thumb. I'm not sure how it happened, who started it, but next thing I know is that we're kissing. His fingers are running through my hair. Our legs entangled. As each kiss brakes I suck in air, excited for the next touch of our lips. My hands slide over his chest, his heart is pounding. That's when I feel the dried blood on his shirt. I snap back to reality and pull away. Every part of my body is burning, I look at Pete and see his lips are red. Mine probably are as well.

"You should...change..." I say.

"Yeah." he mutters pushing himself off the bed and going to his closet. I turn and bury my face in the pillow. I hear the closet open, then close. Soon he's sitting on the bed, I feel like he's about to say something, so I cut him off and say "Miss Linda made you ensaymada."

"Oh. Right."

"You need to eat."

"I guess."

"I don't mind you leaving me here." I face him and see that he's wearing a large navy blue sweater, he stares back at me with a look of confusion. I smile and say "Go eat." He stands and makes his way to his door, but stops and says "You'll still be here...when I come back?"

"Yes. I promise." He leaves, and I am free to roam about my thoughts. That felt weird. Like I was cheating on 25 year old Pete. He looks the same anyway, it's as though time froze his face when he turned 18. I laugh to myself. Boyishly Sexy- I call him. Then he would frown, feigning irritation, then go off and put on his prop beard. Which he had purchased for the sole purpose of using it so I would call him "a man." He tried growing one when he was in college. We all made fun of him and his facial hair was the butt of all jokes for the next five years.

Did dad feel strange when he left older Clare and made love to 18 year old Clare? Or had it felt natural? Thinking about my parents love making disturbed me...but sometimes - times like these- it would creep into my mind. But the thing that felt strange with making out with younger Pete was more of the fact that it felt natural, it felt right. Then I suddenly feel myself moving, about to go back. I panic, remembering that I should not leave just yet. So I sing the first song that comes to mind - Fireflies by Faith Hill. The sensation leaves my body midway through the first chorus.

The door opens and Pete steps in, and closes it behind him slowly. He crosses to the bed and lies down beside me.

"You're sleepy." I say

"Yes."

"You want me to move?"

"No...please...just...stay here. Until I sleep. Please." He kicks off his shoes and pulls the bedcovers over him, then holds them open inviting me to join him. I curl up beside him and rest my head on his chest, he wraps his arms around me. "Could you sing to me?" he whispers into my hair. I search my brain for a song, and soon find one. A song he taught me several months ago. I stumble over the foreign words clumsily:

"_Kamukha mo si Paraluman... (You resemble Paraluman)" _He laughs softly and pulls me closer. I continue, concentrating on the words  
_"No'ng tayo ay bata pa (Since we were children)  
At ang galing-galing mong sumayaw (You were always such a good dancer)  
Mapa-Boogie man o Chacha (Whether it was the boogie or ChaCha)_...

_Ngunit ang paborito (But the favorite)  
Ay pagsayaw mo ng El Bimbo (Dance of yours was the El Bimbo)  
Nakakaindak, nakakaaliw (It made me want to dance, it was entertaining)  
Nakakatindig balahibo (It made my hair stand)_

_Pagkagaling sa 'skwela ay didiretso na sa inyo (After school we'd go straight to your house)  
At buong maghapon ay tinuturuan mo ako_ _(And you would teach me the entire afternoon)_....Oh, my god. I suck so bad." I say laughing into his chest. He continues the song , the words sliding effortlessly from his tongue, his fingers intertwining with mine.

"_Magkahawak ang ating kamay at walang kamalay-malay, Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko na umibig na tunay ( We held each others hands and had no idea, that you had taught my heart to truly love)..."_ He kissed the top of my head.

"Could I try another song?" I say.

"Sure."

I clear my throat

"_Come away with me in the night  
Come away with me  
And I will write you a song_

_Come away with me on a bus  
Come away where they can't tempt us  
With their lies_

_And I want to walk with you  
On a cloudy day  
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
So won't you try to come?_

_Come away with me and we'll kiss  
On a mountaintop  
Come away with me  
And I'll never stop loving you_

_And I want to wake up with the rain  
Falling on a tin roof  
While I'm safe there in your arms  
So all I ask is for you  
To come away with me in the night  
Come away with me"_

When I finish he's fast asleep. I feel that I'm about to leave. I don't want to leave him. But I know I have to; so I kiss his forehead gently, fearing he might wake up. It's freezing so I stay nuzzled in his embrace. Then I'm gone.

* * *

**Reviews please:D The song is entitled "Ang Huling El Bimbo" by the Eraserheads (a Filipino band) and Paraluman is an actress:), I felt the need to put the translation. Sorry if it's really confusing:/ I wasn't really sure how to put it, second song is "Come Away with me" by Norah Jones. Okay. That's all:)**

**Merry Christmas and Happy New Year once again!:D**

**_cole_  
**


	5. The Wedding

Saturday, October 6, 2017, 3:30 pm

(Pete is 18)

**Pete: **Patrica Roberts- you would never guess she was the sister of Brent Roberts. Its not that she was ugly. She was tall and incredibly round, with a pudgy face with an upturned nose and thick glasses. Their green eyes and platinum blonde hair were the only things they had in common. Other than that...there was nothing that made them family. She was 10 years older than him, and insanely smart. Like she was the team captain of the school Mathletes and Chess Team, got full scholarship to ALL the Univesities she applied for, graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cornell. She even took her Masters Degree there, and yes, she graduated top of her class again. So I figured her fiancée would also be ultra smart. He was okay. A history buff from Montana- I didn't even know there were people in Montana. They met at a Literature Convention or something.

The Robert's home was on Main Street, no way you could miss it. Their dad lived in Boston, a really successful lawyer who came by every weekend or so while his wife slept around with the librarian's son. Seriously. You mention this to Brent though you're gonna get your ass kicked to the Andromeda Galaxy. I knock on the door and it's Pat who answers.

"Pete! Hi, come on in."

"Hey, Pat. Congrats on your engagement." I say "Miss Linda made you guys some cookies." handing her the packet of cookies Tita Linda had made that morning.

"Tell her thanks." She puts her hand on my back and leads me into the house. Pat's really nice. That's why I'm not crapping in my pants right now.

"Where's Brent?" I ask when we take a seat in the living room.

"Out with his friends. You want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine thanks."

"Okay." she sits across from me "So...Brent talked with you about singing?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm here, actually. I'd love to sing at your wedding."

"Yes! Okay, thank you. Coz the band we booked...the singer won't be available for the next couple of months because his choir was asked to tour around Europe."

"Really?"

"Yeah, a concert series."

"That's cool."

"I kinda panicked at first, then mom" Her mom is drunk half the time so her remembering someone is a big deal "mentioned you...And I realized 'Yeah, why not?'"

"Well, I'm glad to be of service." She reached for a pink folder on the coffee table.

"Here's the song list." she said handing a piece of paper to me. The songs weren't too hard, mostly jazz: The Way You look Tonight, Beyond the Sea, My Funny Valentine, Some Enchanted Evening, I Get a Kick out of you. There was also some Elton John: 'Your Song' and 'Endless Love'...what?

"Endless Love...that's a duet." I point out.

"Yes, we were wondering if you could sing with Lindsay Perkins?"

I force a smile "Sure...I mean we sing in the choir together." Ah, Lindsay the stalker chick. The second she falls for someone she has the habit of learning every little thing about that person and following them. She has serious issues. Everyone used to tease her about it. Until a year ago I made the mistake of telling them off. And she's been on my tail ever since. Honestly, though she's not too bad looking and even a really good singer. She's kinda pretty even, a small round face, big brown eyes and long red hair, freckles on her nose- its really easy to mistake her as the sweet girl next door. If you can put aside the fact that she knows your blood type, class schedule, shoe size, and what type of hygienic products you use she'd be a good girlfriend. And it's not just that she knows EVERYTHING about me, she has three "I LOVE Pete Hale" t-shirts, my face and name on all her school books, and her classes with me are highlighted with pink. I would call the police on her except her dad is the Chief. Woot...go life. The rest of the song list was pretty decent.

"Oh, gosh. I love this song" I mutter tapping the paper.

"What song?"

"'What is a Youth', this is from Zeferelli's 'Romeo and Juliet', right?"

"Yes, you've actually watched that?"

Brent's not here, so it's safe to be a nerd "Yeah, I'm a sucker for Shakespeare."

"Wow, Richard's sister is about your age. Maybe you two could hit a home run or something." she says winking. I smile. Yeah, Richard's sister is not exactly the girl I would like to see at the wedding. I wanna ask if she knows a Clare De Tamble, but then suddenly an incredibly drunk Mrs. Roberts comes in holding a martini.

"Mom...how was your nap?" Pat asks awkwardly.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Roberts." I say standing up. She makes her way towards me, wobbling a little.

"Aren't you a sweet little boy?" she says, smooshing my cheeks together with her free hand "I'm gonna get you a shpritzer..."

"That's nice, Mrs. Roberts." I'm not sure if she freaks me out or entertains me. She can't make it out of the room, she trips on her five inch heels and is laughing her head off but manages not too spill a drop from her glass. Pat moves forward and helps her mom up.

"I'll just get going." I say, trying to hide my smile.

"No...don't 's play some games first." Mrs. Roberts mutters taking another sip and winking at me "Do you know any games with a leather whip and a red rubber ball-"

"Mom, mom...let's go get you cleaned up. Thanks again, Pete."

"Sure. No problem."  
"November 12. I'll have Brent get the details to you."

"Thanks...I'll just let myself out." There was no way her mom would be able to find the door and she had to make sure her mom found a trashcan to throw up in. The second I step out of the door, Brent's right there leaning against his new car. But Brent isn't exactly who I see. It's Nessa Banks, sitting on the hood. She smiles at me. My legs shake.

"How's your face?" she asks, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"Uhm...yeah. It's...yeah." Wonderful reply.

"Still looks like crap to me." Brent says, laughing. The rest of the football goons followed on suite. Nessa bites her lip and looks at me apologetically. I'm really not in the mood for a beating in front of her so I go straight to my bike and begin unchaining it.

"Sweet ride, gaylord." I hear one of the football dudes say.

"Burn, man. You got burned...hehehehe" Dirk Miller chuckles. Now this guy looks like he lives in a cave. Bear like build, bushy long hair, and ogre like features. I wouldn't be surprised if he came to school one day with a club and his pet dinosaur. "You got burned like toast...like with butter...you know...but...burned. Now you all, like, black and crunchy, and...you know, you gotta, like...scrape the top parts off with a knife, 'cause, you know...you got...like...with the jam and--" "Dirk, you can stop talking now." Someone cuts in.

"Nice talking with you." I mutter, climbing on my bike.

"Could I hitch a ride?" Nessa says. Oh, my god. I don't mean to sound gay but-oh-my-god. Nessa Banks wants me to watch her ass all the way home.

"Uhh...I'm on a bike." I stammer.

"Baby, you know I can take you home anytime." Brent says. She rolls her eyes and says "Can you bike with someone on your handlebars?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." she flashes her million dollar smile.

"Hop on." I try to smile, then realize I probably look like a crazy stalker idiot. Look away. I managed to get to our street without hitting any cars. So that's good. I stop at her house and walk her to the door, real gentleman like. She's saying something about school but I don't really have anything much to say, so I just nod along. My brain never really functions properly when Nessa Banks is nearby.

"Shakespeare...god...I mean it's really killing me." She says when we reach the door.

"Yeah…uhm...lots of people hate him."

"They should. I mean...it just doesn't make any sense."

"It's...all right."

"I'm trying to understand it; you know with Romeo and Juliet...I watched the Leo movie...still really senseless. I wound up just watching Leo, you know?"

"Uhm...not really. You should watch the older one."

"I don't think that'll help."

"No, it will. It's more...personal, I guess. And if you still don't get it...I can...uhm...help you out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah...I...uhm...have a Shakespeare Dictionary."

"Oh...I thought you meant...tutorials or something."

"Oh..." I think my mouth is hanging open "Yeah...that sounds cool."

"Cool. Maybe we can even watch the 'older one' together." Shitshitshit. Was she asking me on a date? Was that a date? Tutoring her on Shakespeare doesn't exactly scream date. I manage to nod. Cue her older brother, who smelled as though he had just been smoking weed, opening the door.

"Hi, Trevor."

"Hey, bike dude."

"Bye, Pete." she smiles. Her brother makes a peace sign. And they both go back into the house. When I get back to my house, I head straight to the beach and wade in the surf until I can't feel my feet anymore.

**Saturday, November 12, 2017, 6:00pm**

**(Pete is 18, Alba is 16)**

**Pete:** The reception hall is decked out in pastel colored flowers and ribbons. I'm sitting on a stool on the stage watching as the waiters scurry around making last minute preparations. I haven't seen Lindsay Perkins since the boat ride to Martha's Vineyard. She was supposed to sing for the actual wedding, while I'm for the reception. We didn't get much practice with the band, so I'm kinda nervous about that. Taking a long drink from my water bottle I go over the song lyrics in my head, the song list is strategically taped at the foot of the mike stand.

"Pete! Hi!" Lindsay is...running...clopping...towards me, awkward in her heels. She's wearing an aqua blue dress, which matches my necktie...which I realize I haven't tied yet. I proceed to tie it and greet her too. Lindsay is about 4'10" or something, so plus her heels she's like 5 feet flat. Her hair is tucked up in an awkward bun, with a huge flower headband.

"Don't you look dapper?" she says coming on stage.

"Thanks."

"Wanna vocalize together?"

"Uhm...I already did. Thanks. I can...work the piano for you."

"That'd be great. Can we work on the song?"

"Well, I think that guests are gonna be coming soon...soooo maybe just a few...uhm...vocal exercises."

I run her through a couple of exercises, the guests start coming in and the musicians start gearing up and playing instrumental music. I keep my eyes on the door, watching for Alba. She hinted that she would come. Well, she said that I should sing for the wedding. So that probably meant she would be coming. Then something smacks me in the brain. The wedding already happened, which meant that Lindsay probably saw her. I'm about to ask when I realize...how on earth do you ask someone that? Okay, think. When have I seen Alba at her youngest? She was...18. She's two years younger than me so that would mean that she would be 16. No idea how figuring her age out will actually help me describe her. She has...long black hair, brown eyes...hot body...wait...uhm...yeah...pretty...Nessa is pretty too. Nessa is incredibly pretty, like unreal pretty. AND Nessa has a hot body too, sometimes I hang out on the beach in the summer to...okay...yes, that sounds like I'm a stalker. But...I'm not. When you grow up on an island with roughly nine thousand people then you really notice those people. I suddenly feel Lindsay's hand on my arm.

"Pete...you look really handsome." I glance at her. She's smiling up at me really...weird.

"Thanks." I answer, smiling at her. I look back at the door and see a really, really gorgeous woman come in. There was something about her, something strangely familiar. She had red hair and was wearing a sea green gown, with painted patterns on the...skirt. And behind her was the person I have been waiting to see forever. Alba De Tamble. She didn't look...the same. I mean, I've seen her sooo many times, I practically grew up with her. But seeing her in this time, in MY time, was different. Alba was Olivia Hussey except with darker eyes, how could I have never noticed that before? Then again, I had always seen her wearing random pieces of clothes. Maybe it was like one of those cheesy movies when the guy sees the girl on prom night all made up and realizes how freaking beautiful and elegant she really is. I don't really know if it's romantic or really superficial. She was wearing a sky blue gown cinched at the waist with a silver ribbon. She grasped her mom's arm and they walked towards their table, chatting excitedly.

_Did my heart love till now? Foreswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night._That's how I felt. I realize that Lindsay just said something.

"Hmm?" I say, I try to look at her but I can't quite take my eyes off Alba's face.

"I said...how do I look?"

"Oh...yeah...fine...you look fine."

"Oh, okay."

Right now I'm thinking - _Please look at me, Alba. PLEASE, DAMN IT!_ - But she's talking with the other people who're sitting with them. Her mom - Clare - looks up and glances straight at me. I realize that I might - note might - be drooling. So I look away and casually dab my sleeve on my mouth. Good, dry. The crazy wedding planner lady runs up too us and tells us to get ready. As the newly wed couple are entering an instrumental version of 'What is A Youth' is gonna play...incredibly 'Romeo and Juliet', their first dance is going to be announced and then I sing.

"Get ready, Frank." the lady says. She's been calling me 'Frank' for the past month. Crazy Wedding Planner Lady. I've gotten really sick of correcting her so I just go along with it.

"Okay." I mutter striding towards the mike.

"Off the stage, Lindsay." Oh, sure. She gets Lindsay's name right.

"Break a leg, Pete." Lindsay says walking off the stage "Show them why I love you." Okay...yeah...I smile and giver her an awkward thumbs up. At this point I am NOT looking forward to our duet.

"Frank...remember your intro..." Crazy Wedding Planner Lady reminds me.

"Will you cue me?"  
"I'll give you the thumbs up."

"Okay." She then jogs off towards the entrance, making the other guests scurry to their seats. The band begins to play the intro. Then the newly wed couple enters. Okay, the first thing I see should be how beautiful Patricia Roberts-Johnson looks. But it's not. The first thing I notice is the massive Samoan guy on her arm. There is no way he's from Montana. Originally anyway. By the way, when I say massive I mean insanely...macho. Like he can squish my head with two fingers. He looked like the Rock. Except with glasses. I glance at the sign on the door way. "Richard Johnson and Patricia Roberts Wedding" Maybe he was related to the Rock...in someway or another. People start applauding. Crazy Wedding Planner Lady gives me the thumbs up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...Mister and Misses Richard Johnson." People stood up and began applauding. But, yeah…Patricia did look really great. I continued with the short spiel "Let this dance be the opening to their new lives together. This dance shall be the first of many more they shall have in this new union of love." Pat and her new husband take the floor. And I begin to sing one of the ballads I have always dreamt of singing.

**Alba: **Imagine crystal clear water running down hill, and there are birds singing in the trees and it's the finest day the earth can produce. Imagine the most beautiful voice you've heard and multiply it by three million. That's what the wedding singer sounded like. People were turning their heads to the raised platform at the far end of the room. In a wedding, the guests usually watch and whisper to each other about how beautiful the newlyweds are. No one was whispering. I'm not even sure anyone was watching the dance; because I wasn't.

My gaze shifted to the singer as well. It's hard to describe people, especially people who really make an impression the first time you see them. He was tall, perhaps six feet, with wood like brown hair. His eyes were the shape of almonds; I couldn't tell what color they were. They looked blue, like sapphires except not as dark. His pink lips formed a majestic smile as he sang one of the lines from the song.

There was a sigh of disappointment as the song ended. It took a few seconds for people to realize that it had and begin clapping. I turned to my mother and found she was dabbing her teary eyes with a napkin; several people were doing the same around the room. Even Richard and Pat's faces were wet with tears. They kissed each other. People cheered. The two of them moved forward and talked to the wedding singer. I don't know what they said exactly, but it was probably "That was the most moving song in the world. Thank you."

The pianist – who also looked like he had stepped out of a dream – said into his microphone "Peter Hale, ladies and gentlemen!" gesturing to the singer. I guess in a wedding it was kinda inappropriate, but people stood up and began cheering. Mom and I followed. Someone near the stage screamed "I love you!" – That was weird. Peter Hale's face turned bright red. He smiled bashfully and said "Well…let's move on shall we?" His name sounded familiar but I somehow couldn't place it.

He handed the microphone over to the host – Richard's brother- Samuel, who eased through the program of the speeches, a special video made by the groom's family, the garter and bouquet throwing. After the last speech was said by the parents, Samuel took the stage once more grinning madly. "Well…now that the formalities are over. Let's get down and dirty. What is a party without dancing….right?! Yeah?! You feelin' me?" people started clapping "Okay. I know you're all excited. To start the dancing…there's going to be a special song number by two kids who grew up in the same island as Pat, the quaint sea side…town…I guess…of Nantucket. Where are the Nantucket peeps?" A couple of people cheered "Great! Anyway you probably know these two. And as for everyone else…let's welcome back on-stage a kid who was blessed by Apollo – he's the god of music, for all those who aren't geeks- you all fell in love with him…Mister-Peter-Hale! And his choir mate, Lindsay Perkins!" Peter walked on stage, a little more nervous looking that before, he smiled awkwardly. The girl looked tiny next too him, clinging to his arm and flashing her purple braces to everyone.

"Well…let's get to know these two a little better shall we. So, this is Lindsay." Samuel said placing his arm around her. I swear this guy was a natural born host.

"So, Lindsay…how old are you?"

"17, I'm turning 18 next month."

"Sweet. When did you start singing?"

"About two years ago."

"Any special message to the love birds?"

"Uhm…yeah. Pat you are one of the best people ever, and Richard, you did good in choosing to marry her." A couple of people clapped. Richard kissed Pat on the cheek. She continued "I hope you guys will be happy forever and ever." Everyone else clapped. Pat was smiling.

"Thanks Linday…and now…mister star of the night…sorry Richie but this kid deserves a crap more amount of praise than you…" People laughed and Richard nodded, gave a thumbs up and yelled "Hell yeah!" Peter's face was redder than ever. Clearly, he wasn't used to the attention.

"So…Pete…is your dad actually Apollo?"

Peter ran his hand through his hair lightly "No…my dad's welsh." The room erupted in laughter. He looked freaked out as sin…but clearly he was naturally charming.

"You Lindsay's age?"

"Uhm…I'm 18."

"Do you hear that, ladies? He's legal." Someone yelled "wooh!" and if possible his face became even redder. "Anyone special in your life, Pete?"

"Not at the moment…no…"

"Maybe you'll find that special lady here, huh?" I half expected him to blush even more, or laugh awkwardly. But the color on his face drained slightly, he shrugged knowingly, glanced my way and smiled. Then it hit me. I met him four years ago, but he was older then. Peter Hale the guy who didn't exactly scream mohawk. The guy who would become my best friend. I smiled back.

_Later_

**Pete: **I'm not sure how I got through the night. But I did. I sang my way through everything as best as I could. Worst and most awkward was definitely 'Endless Love' she kept sliding next to me and holding my hand. But…yeah…not a total disaster.

The building where the reception was held was a hotel with a huge garden. Right after the reception I decided to explore. The hotel was on the mainland, so I would be staying at the hotel for the night then get back home the next day. Whoever designed the garden was a genius, it was absolutely beautiful. There were trees and flowers everywhere. Even at night the place looked stunning.

Soon I came to a smaller garden; the garden wall had a balcony which I figured led to a room. The French doors to the room were open, illuminating the small copse. I kept walking and found more balconies and when I came to the last one, I froze. Sitting on the ledge, still in her blue gown, was Alba De Tamble. I moved slowly, and stood behind a tree watching her. I wanted to go up to her and say something, but I couldn't search for the words.

The light from the room really made her features pop. I read the title of what she was reading, perfect- 'Romeo and Juliet' I knew just what to say.

**Alba: **When I heard him talk I thought I would fall of the balcony.

"But soft! What light from yonder window breaks? It is the east, and…you…are the sun…" Peter Hale was standing on the ground, leaning on a tree and smiling. His tie was undone and his eyes twinkled with some kind of strange light.

A smile came to my mouth "Everyone knows that line." I said.

He raised his eyebrows, his grin widened "I'll come up with a better one."

"I hope so."

"Hi…" he said, stepping forward.

"That's not impressive, either." I leaned on the railing so I could see him better.

He cocked his head "…_See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh! That I were a glove on that hand, that I might touch that cheek_…" I laughed, and he waved his hands asking me to continue.

"_Ay, me_!" I replied as dreamily as I could, stifling the giggle forming.

"_She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a wingèd messenger of heaven unto the white, upturnèd, wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air."_

For a moment I couldn't search for the next line, which was weird because it was the most famous line of the play. I've never met someone who could easily get through a Shakespeare monologue as easy as he could outside of a theatre.

"_O Romeo, Romeo…where fore art thou Romeo? Deny thy love and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Capulet." _

"You should've changed the name." he said.

"That would be so…weird" I chuckled.

"Yeah…I wish I got a more Shakespeare appropriate name."

"Mmm…Hi, Pete."

"Hi, Alba. This is nice."

"What?"

"You're in my time. You're…real I guess."

"I'm real whether or not I time travel."

"It's more real now because… I don't know how to describe it. Because talking to you…future you…it seemed so surreal. But now we're in the same time period and place not because of your time travel gene. Because…we just are. I hope that makes sense…could you…?"

"Come down?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth." He said, twisting his untied neck tie. There was a tree branch near the balcony, which was only several feet off the ground. I had changed into my silver ballet flats when I got back to the room.

"Oh…god…Alba. Please don't jump." I heard him say. When I looked down on him he was shaking his head, I grinned; the ability to read my mind must've been the reason for us becoming friends.

Before he could protest even more, I swung my leg over the railing and said "Catch me" and jumped. For a split second I thought he wouldn't be able to catch me. But, surprise-surprise…he did. He stumbled a little, but he actually caught me. I hugged him and laughed.

"Don't ever do anything like that again." He muttered, pulling me closer. I don't have much experience with boys. They usually get turned off when I start quoting Tollstoy, or make references to Greek mythology or say something remotely intellectual. I have kissed a boy, though. His name was Tom Reegan and he was my first…and so far last…boyfriend.

"Wanna walk?" he asked me.

"Sure." I said, pulling away. I didn't realize it, but my fingers were laced around his. We walked around the garden talking about who knows what. Random thoughts that came into mind. At one point I asked him what university he would be going to. He shrugged and said wherever he gets into.

"I can't believe you don't have a girlfriend." I said stopping.

"What?"

"Sorry…just came to my mind. I mean…you're smart, nice, an incredible _incredible_ singer…and you don't look like you should live under a bridge."

"Thanks…I guess."

"Do you like anyone?" sure, it was really invasive. But I just wanted to know.

"I…guess…there was someone I liked."

"What happened?"

He looked at me strangely "I'm not sure."

"Well, think about it." I said, leaning against the trunk of a tree and crossing my arms.

"Okay…I think…" he seemed to be groping his brain for the right words. "I think…" he repeated slowly taking a step towards me. Something was whirring in my brain or was that my stomach? I suddenly felt like I was breathing through a straw. I knew what I wanted him to say. But I was scared too. He was standing very close to me; I could see the color of his eyes better. They were blue and yeah, like a sapphire, but I guess I hadn't noticed the light green specks around his iris. "I think I realized you were real." My breath caught in my throat.

And then he kissed me, lightly. And I kissed him back; wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He pushed me up against the tree, my heart was hammering. I don't know how long we were kissing, but soon his lips left mine and traveled down my jaw. Then I felt them on my neck, I could feel the pressure and it made me want to scream. He stopped kissing my neck and I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. His hands ran over my body, I pulled him into another kiss. There was something so natural about all this it frightened me. But the natural urge was being beaten down by something else.

I felt myself push him away "Stop…" I forced myself to whisper; I couldn't look at him so I just stared at my hands. My face was on fire, every single bit of me was on fire, especially the places he had touched.

"I'm sorry…" I heard him say "I shoudn't have-"

"You can't like me."

"Alba…what-" his voice was confused and almost…pained.

"Please let me finish. I…when I was 12 I met you…in the future. There's nothing here, Pete. Trust me. We become best friends…but that's all. If we do this…it's a waste of time…" I found the courage to look at him. His hair was standing up in all the directions possible, his shirt was crumpled, lips slightly swollen. I hated seeing his face. It looked as though the entire world crashed upon him. Like I shattered everything he believed in.

"Oh…" was all he managed to say.

"I have to go. Mom might be looking for me…I'm…sorry…." I walked away as quickly as possible. When I heard him about to say something I hitched up my dress and ran as fast as I could. No way he would out run me.

When I got back to the room, Mom was sitting on her bed worriedly brushing her hair.

"Oh, god, Alba! Where have you been?! I thought…" she must've noticed my swollen lips and my incredibly messy hair.

"I don't want to talk about it." I said going into the bathroom.

"Okay…" she said nodding understandingly "Tomorrow then?"

"Yeah…I guess…" I said managing a smile. I took a shower and cried the entire time.

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**Hey All:) I hope your 2010 has been great so far. Hope you enjoyed...and reviews reviews reviews please:)) **

**-- Cole  
**


	6. Found then Lost

November 16, 2017, Wednesday, 6:30 pm

(Alba is 16)

**Alba: **I was sitting at my desk, skimming my math homework when I suddenly heard Mia squeal in excitement. Mia de Hassey, we've only known each other for two years but we've gotten to be best friends. I think it's her huge dear in the headlights eyes that assures me that I can trust her no matter what. I tell her anything and everything, and she'll keep it secret.

"Alba!" I heard her squeal again, the excitement in her voice clear. "Get over here! I found him!" I faced her; she was on my bed, her baby blue laptop open in front of her. She was staring at the screen, her eyes bigger than ever, her sandy hair spilling onto her shoulders.

"Found who?" I said, closing my math notes and sitting beside her. I looked at the screen and felt my heart stop for a second. Mia hugged me suddenly "Your future husband, silly!" Here's the thing about Mia de Hassey she's a hopeless romantic. Times three-thousand and forty seven. You see a cute boy in the mall she'll say you're linked in the stars, a boy calls you up and asks you on a date she'll start putting your names together, for example – 'Alba De Tamble-Grace', 'Alba De Tamble-Reegan'; that kind of stuff. It's even worse when she's the target of a boy's affection. Not in front of him though. In front of him she just as sweet and shy as she always is. But the butterflies in her tummy are forming a whirlwind.

"He's not my future husband. He said so himself" I say detaching myself from her. She frowned at me and said "What if he lied? Look, Alba. He's so cute." She said gesturing towards the screen.

"How did you do that?" I say "I didn't even tell you his name."

"Through the glorious internet."

"Huh?"

"Listen. Do you know how many people there are in Nantucket? Like...nine thousand. Then he's obviously in High School. So I went to the website of the High School- the Whalers- that's kind of not a good name for a school, don't you think? It's a wonder that PETA hasn't blown them up. Anyway, you said that he sang at the wedding…with his choir mate. So, he's in the school choir, I thought. And I was right. See? They have their own website. AND each member has like a profile. Here's his."

I smiled and crossed my arms "How do you know that's him?"

She smiled mischievously and pulled out a crumpled paper from her pocket "His eyes. Your English poem." She held up my English poem draft, his eyes were not mentioned in the draft. I had gotten bored and sketched them on the paper; then I tried coloring them in. I have to admit they looked exactly like his. I grabbed the paper back from Mia. "You pulled this from my trash can?"

"No. Tom…" my new kitten "knocked over the trash can. I was putting the papers back in when I saw it." She said brushing her bangs from her eyes. She glanced back at the screen "Oh! Then I found him on Facebook…and YouTube. I loaded the videos so we could watch."

"I don't want to watch." I muttered sitting back at my desk.

"Oh, come on…please….Mrs. Hale….Mrs. Peter Hale?"

"Don't you have an essay to finish?"

"Mrs. Peter Hale…Mrs. Alba De Tamble-Hale…Mrs. Peter Hale…" she chanted playfully. I sighed "Fine…fine…you have to stop doing that though." I said making my way to my bed and Indian sitting beside her. His profile picture on the website was clearly a school picture, his hair neatly arranged, a calm thin smile, the blue sky background.

"Check out his Facebook profile pic. He's set to private, though."

"Maybe because he doesn't want stalkers like you reading it."

"Whatever." She switched the tab to Facebook. The picture must've been taken in a classroom or something. It was black and white; he was leaning back in a chair, arms crossed, pencil in his mouth and looking away from the camera, like he was listening to someone talking. "He looks smart." Mia commented.

We spent the next hour watching videos on YouTube. One of my favorite videos was taken in the choir room in their school entitled "OK in the choir room". He sat at the piano, playing Eric Hutchinson's 'OK, its all right with me' and singing. Several of his choir mates stood around him clapping along and singing as well. His second verse was filled with him humming and laughing having forgotten the lyrics. Mia's favorite was him and some other guy doing a semi-acoustic version of 'Fireflies' by Owl City.

When Mia had to go she said "I wonder how you're gonna be best friends with what you said to him after the wedding." I shrugged "Dunno. But it'll work out, I guess." She smiled sadly and nodded "I hope so, Alba. I wanna meet him." I laughed and hugged her.

April 19, 2036, Saturday, 4:30 pm

(Alba is 35, Pete is 37)

**Alba:** I found myself in a coat closet. I was scared; I have been for some time now. I found a large coat which fell to my knees and gingerly opened the door. It was a large hallway; I stood to the side of a familiar staircase. In fact the hallway was familiar everything was familiar. I couldn't place it, but I know that I've been here before. The colors which painted the walls, the large friendly windows, and the light paneled wood.

I closed the door behind me and made my way down to hallway which opened to a cozy living room. Just as I was about to reach out to the closest picture frame I realized where I was. The last time I was here I was a little girl. Spinning around and bolting towards the stairs I yelled his name out as loud as I could.

"Pete! Pete! I'm here! I'm home!" I screamed running up the stairs, taking steps two at a time. I heard a door bang open and footsteps. "Alba?!" I froze on the top steps. It wasn't Pete standing there. It was Mia. She was older now, her hair was shorter, gained a bit of weight, but she was Mia.

"Oh, my god! You're here!" she gasped, tears running down her face, she ran forward and hugged me. I cried into her neck, embracing her as tight as I could. I didn't want to leave. "I'm here." I whispered.

"Where have you been?" she whispered pulling away.

I couldn't answer, I could only think of one thing. "Where's Pete? Where's…" I didn't know how to say it. How to ask the next question. I just prayed that Mia knew what I was asking, thank god she did. She smiled at me "I almost forgot…Franc! Franc, look who's here!" she called turning around, she faced me suddenly looked panicked "Pete's not here…he has a meeting…I'll call him…" before running down the stairs she hugged me again "It's so nice to see you…" then she was down the stairs.

A small boy popped his head from around the door which Mia had come out of. A sob caught in my throat. He couldn't have been more than ten, he had black hair and his father's beautiful eyes. For a moment he stared at me, confused. Then he must've realized who I was because next thing I know he was wrapped in my arms crying "Mommy!"

"Franc…" I whispered, pulling away and smoothing his hair down. "You look just like…"

"Grandpa Henry." He supplied smiling.

"Yes, Grandpa Henry. Has daddy told you that?"

"Yeah. And Grandma."

"Except you have your dad's eyes."

"I know that too." He said, matter-of-factly. I laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Tell me all about you." He took my hand and led me into the room he had just left.

"This is my library." He said plopping down on a bean bag chair. I looked around. Books filled every single corner, some didn't even have space on the shelves so they were piled on the floor. There was a blue radio that looked like a jukebox, a violin, several other chairs and a television.

"It's wonderful. What's your favorite book?" I asked sitting beside him. He considered me seriously, cocked his head to the side. "I'm not sure, mom." My heart melted when he called me mom. "There are too many books..."

"Okay…what are your favorites?"

He smiled "I like the Percy Jackson books, Roald Dahl, Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes…the list goes on and on..."

"That's wonderful. Can you…travel?"

He nodded "Yes. When I want to. I don't really enjoy it."

"What do you mean when you want to?"

"I can control it. Fully."

"Well aren't you a little genius!" I said pulling him into my lap and hugging him more. Mia came and just then with a plate of cookies and soy milk. Strawberry soy milk. We began eating.

"Pete's so excited. He's on his way home." She said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

My heart leapt "Wonderful. Do you have kids?" I ask.

"Yup. I live in Iowa. I'm here on business…Pete asked me to watch over Franc." She said ruffling his hair "He had an emergency meeting of some sort." There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but my tongue couldn't form the words. "Oh! Alba!" Mia cried "Guess where Franc got his name!"

"My name's spelled: F-R-A-N-C." Franc said, eyeing me curiously. I knew in a second where he had gotten his name. "I can't believe Pete let his inner dweeb get to you, Franc. Named after Franco Zeffirelli?" I answered laughing.

"Yeah." Franc said, enthusiastically "Gianfranco De Tamble-Hale. He won't let me watch 'Romeo and Juliet' until I'm twelve though." I shrugged. "He was twelve when he first watched it, your father's a very sentimental man."

Just then I head a car, then a slamming door. "It's dad!" Franc yelled jumping to his feet "He'll be so excited to see you!" he grabbed my hand. Then I felt the lurch in my stomach "Oh…god…I'm going…" I gasped falling to my knees.

"No! No! Please stay! Don't go! Dad, hurry!" Franc called out. Mia was also on her feet "Pete! She's going! Pete" she ran out of the room. I heard the door slam open then I heard his voice, his beautiful voice, call my name "Alba! I'm here! Don't go!" His feet were running up the stairs. I took Franc's face in my hands; he was crying "I love you." I managed to whisper. I could've sworn Pete was just outside the door; but then I was gone.

**Pete: **I stumbled into the room. The Alba's beige coat was on the floor. Franc was kneeling beside it, sobbing. He looked at me with his tear filled eyes "She couldn't stay." I moved forward and hugged him, I felt his salty tears stream down my neck. I wanted to cry, I was too shocked, too shaken up. "I know. It's all right." I muttered. Was I telling that to him, or me? She was gone, again. And I had just missed her by a second. In that one second, she was lost too me once more.

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**Hello Readers.  
**

**Reviews please**

**_cole_**


	7. The Water

**Hola, my readers.**

**Sorry for the long break and the short chapter. It has been really hard to find time to write. **

**I want to answer all your questions....but I won't;)...don't worry it's all up here *taps brain* It took me awhile to work out the story, so I intend to finish it. **

**I can't say when I'll post next:( But hopefully soon. Anyway: Read and Review please:D**

**_cole_  
**

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Monday, December 18, 2017, 8:26 pm

(Pete is 18)

**Pete: **Swimming has always been my sport. Not that I had joined the team. It was just something I did. Everyday I would go to the indoor pool and do laps for an hour or two. It was my way on unwinding. When you're underwater you don't hear anything, you don't hear the chaos on the dry land. I haven't swum for two weeks, ever since it happened.

I dove into the water, the cold enveloped my arms, shoulders then I was underwater. Then the water was getting darker, not the cool chemical blue anymore. It grew darker; the dark water came like when you pour ink into water. Slow and scary, intricate. I knew what the dark water was, it was red, and it was blood. Then she was in front of me, her dress clinging to her body, smiling serenely. I panicked. I thrashed in the water. The blood was choking me down; the water came into my mouth, my lungs.

Hands grabbed me, hands were pulling me. I could hear shouts. She waved good-bye. I yelled. My shoulders banged into the pool wall, I was dragged onto the wet tiles. "You ok, Pete?" someone asked. I didn't answer. All I knew was that there way no way in hell I was going back into the water.

Saturday, March 12, 2015, 3:30pm

(Pete is 16)

**Pete: **I watched as Gabe pulled the thermometer from the water. We were on the white row boat that my father had named 'Cwch'; I remember I was ten when he had bought the boat. I asked him what it meant; I thought he made the name up, or it came from a book that was based in a different world, I thought that it had a whole philosophical and complicated meaning that I would only be able to grasp in my old age. I was wrong. My father's real creative; he pulled my ear and said that if I were as smart as Tommy I would've known that 'Cwch' was 'Boat' in Welsh. Whoops. No wonder the only presents I received from his parents were either red, green, yellow or brown socks, while my brother got whatever he asked for. Right now Gabe and I were working on our science project. Quite honestly, I had no idea what the point of the project was. Something about how the temperature of water and the growth of algae on glass; basically for the past three months we strung a glass bottle to a buoy near my house. Then every two weeks we would measure the temperature of the water and change the bottle. This was the last week of the experiment. He read the temperature out to me and I recorded it in the moleskin notebook that we would submit to our biology teacher.

Suddenly I hear a splash and it's not a tiny 'plop' like rain but like someone threw a massive rock into the sea, or the sound Icarus would've made when he fell to his death into the Aegean. Gabe grabbed the sides of the boat; the water splattered on us and was making Cwch rock unsteadily.

"What in Picard's star ship was that?" he said looking around. I was about to tell him to stop being an idiot with his Star Trek references when I heard the voice of someone drowning. I looked behind Gabe, since I was seated with my back to the house, and saw hands waving hysterically and a head bobbing up and down. The drowning person was pretty far from us, roughly 50 meters away. How did he get there? Gabe said something about signaling the cost guard, I wasn't listening. I pulled off my shirt, kicked my shoes off and dove into the sea.

The water was cold and wind was pretty strong, so with my goose-bumped arms I pulled myself through the waves. It was then that I was grateful that I always swam like I was being chased by Jaws. When I got near the drowning guy I realized that the water around him looked really gross. Like he had vomited, he had stopped thrashing and looked like he was trying to stay afloat. Probably one of the most disgusting experiences in my life was swimming through that vomit to help him. "About time." I heard him mutter when I grabbed his arm. "Shoulders." I said. I felt him wrap his arms around my neck and was even more disgusted when I realized he was naked. Naked or clothed he was still someone who needed rescuing so with all the strength I could muster I paddled him back to Cwch. Gabe was standing with a towel that my mother made us bring. He helped pull the naked man onto Cwch, and handed him the towel. I didn't need any help so I pulled myself up. I took my shirt of the floor and handed it to Naked; it was a good thing that I decided to wear a huge shirt today because it covered his…area. Gabe sat down on the wooden seat beside me, and I pulled the other towel around my shoulders. Naked sat across us, where I had been sitting, and had his head in the towel and was drying his hair. I felt Gabe bump my shoulder, I faced him and read his expression: "What in Neptune's rings?" was probably what he was saying. We were silent as Naked wrapped the towel around his waist.

He looked up at us and smiled. Naked looked like he was in his early to mid twenties, he had long black hair, lots of stubble and a thin face. I was about to say something when he held up his hand and vomited over the side of Cwch. Gabe gagged and I looked up into the clouds. I only pulled my attention away from the satyr shaped cloud when I head Naked say "Sorry. I'm pretty hammered. What year is it?" The first thing I thought was that this guy wasn't just 'pretty hammered' he was insanely drunk to not know the year. Then I felt like something slapped me. There was something familiar about him, his hair, his eyes, the shape of his thin face the fact that he looked like he had no clue at all as to what year it was. "You're in Nantucket. It's Saturday, March 12, 2016." I said not hesitating, the same way I would've answered Alba. No way. Gabe found his voice and asked "Who are you?" I'm pretty sure I knew who he was.

"Henry." He answered. I was right. Gabe was about to ask where he had come from when I cut him off.

"Hi, I'm Pete." I said, then nodding to Gabe "This is Gabe."

"Pete. Gabe. No way I'm gonna remember that. Hi. Uhm…thanks for…swimming…"

"Through your vomit?" I supplied. Henry laughed.

"Yes. That. Any food around here?"

"Blue lunch box, behind you. Turkey and chicken sandwich." Henry took the food and began devouring it. I could feel Gabe trying to read my brain as to figure out what on earth was going on. I watched Henry, fascinated. There was so much I wanted to ask him, and then I realized he hadn't met Clare and therefore didn't know he would have Alba. I watched him intently; he looked up suddenly and asked "Swim team?"

"Hmm? Me?" Henry nodded. I shook my head.

"Coach tried to recruit him." Gabe answered "But if he was in the team then he would have to quite either glee or library club." I shoved Gabe. Henry was laughing.

"Don't worry. I'm a librarian. I know the calling of books. You're a singer? Do you know Annette Lyn Robinson?" I shake my head "Look her up." He extended his hand to us with a squeamish expression. We thought he would vomit again; he took our hands and began shaking them while saying "Well, it's been nice chatting with you, men, but I fear I'll be going-" he didn't finish his sentence before he started dissolving. Gabe yelped and I watched as my shirt and towel fell to the floor of Cwch in a crumpled heap. I wasn't sure what I would tell Gabe; but I was sure that I had just met Henry de Tamble.

Friday, December 1, 2017, 1:20pm

(Pete is 18)

**Pete: **It was our Shakespeare project, which was basically study all the plays we studied this year: Macbeth, Love's Labours Lost and, Romeo and Juliet, and be ready to be partnered up and read an assigned scene on the spot. Nessa was sitting beside me, nervously playing with her pencil and watching as Gabe and Ernie Bronks were reading Macbeth's duel with Macduff. For the past few weeks Nessa and I have been spending hours of a time together discussing Shakespeare. Sure she had a difficult time understanding it but once she did…woah. She would have me proofread her essays and I would actually wish I could submit them with my name because they were amazing. I never would've thought that Nessa could be such an incredible writer. She was especially nervous for today, seeing as she was scared she would stumble over the words and sound like an idiot. I told her it would be okay, because all she needed to do was know what she was reading and everything would work out.

Gabe stabbed Ernie, end scene. We all clapped politely as Gabe sat beside me, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "How'd I do?"

"You did good. Lightsaber training helped with your swordplay." I answered, recalling the times when we would chase each other around my backyard whacking each other with the glowing plastic toys.

"Next up, Vanessa Banks and…Peter Hale." Mrs. Rivers called out. Can a heart stop beating? Nessa looks at me and smiles confidently. I nervously smile back and I can feel Gabe snickering beside me. We both stand and approach Mrs. Rivers, who is grinning broadly at us as if she knows something we don't. She clears her throat and says "Romeo and Juliet. Act 2, Scene 2, verses 1 until 53. I want passion, kids."

Holy crap. The balcony scene. Nessa flips open her book and begins looking for the right page, I know my book back and forth so I flip straight to page 69. Alba enters my mind, Alba in her flowing blue dress and long dark hair. Her grin, her straightforward warning and her kiss. Lately, I've been trying to take my mind off her and focus on Nessa. I mean that's sensible, isn't it? It hurt, yeah. But then again marriage to Alba would be insanely chaotic, with her vanishing and reappearing days or week later. I am not sure if I could handle it. Nessa is watching me, waiting for me to start. I clear my throat and read the first line "_He jests at scars that never felt a wound…"_

_Later:_

Nessa and I were a block a way from her house. It's been really cool walking her home for the past few weeks. True that I've been in love with her…infatuated is a better word…since forever but I had only known her from a far. I'm really happy to report that she's just as cool and sweet as I thought she'd be. She handed me her binder as she tried to demonstrate how to do a cartwheel. I watched her as she did a few cartwheels and back flips ahead of me, thinking the entire time of two things. First: WOAH!. Second: Please, please, please don't slip on the ice and bash your head open. There was a very thin layer of ice on the sidewalk; it had lightly snowed just last night.

"Tada!" she squealed throwing out her arms and grinning madly. I began clapping and approached her "Brava." I said. She threw back her head and began laughing; I couldn't help but laugh with her. She stepped forward, smiling coyly. "Did you like the scene we did together?" she asked. I shrugged "Yeah. You nailed it."

"Thanks, so did you. Naturally. Uhm…I didn't like it."

"Sorry."

"No, it wasn't you. It was the scene."

"Why? The balcony scene is one of the most famous scenes-" before I finished she pressed her gloved finger to my lips. She looked up at me seriously. "I wanted Act 1 Scene 5, verses 104 to 121. I wanted…an opportunity to do this…" she whispered, tiptoeing and gently pressing her lips against mine. I was kissing Nessa Banks, and she was kissing me back. She pulled away; I took her hand and walked her back to her house, no words, no explanation needed.

_Later_

As I stepped into the house I hung my jacket into the coat closet and got the snow of my wet Chucks. I began to make my way upstairs, book bag slung over my shoulder, when I heard Tita Linda call me from the laundry room.

"Pete, _kunin mo yung damit ng nanay mo sa taas. Lalaba na ako._" (Pete, get your mother's dirty clothes. I'm about to do the laundry)

"Okay." I called back climbing the stairs to the second floor. My room is at the very end of the hallway; my parent's room is right beside the stairs. But I decide to put my bag in my room before hauling down my mother's laundry. I hear the hum of the washing machine from the basement. So I drop my bag off in my room, and then knock the standard seven times of my parent's room before going in. From where I am standing I can see the water seeping out from under the bathroom door. There must be a leak or something; but no, there must be a really bad 'something' because the hair on my neck stands the way it does when something's wrong. Approaching the door cautiously I call to my mom.

"Ma? You okay? I'm here to get the laundry." I say, tapping the door. No reply. "I'm coming in, okay? Okay? Mom?" Trying the door knob I find that it's locked. My voice rises to a slightly higher pitch "Mom. Mom. Open the door. Please. Mom. I'm coming in, okay?" She doesn't reply. Several shoulder bangs on the door and it pops open. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think.

The bathroom is flooded with about an inch of red, murky water. And she's lying in her white Italian marble tub. Her arms hanging over the edge, blood running from her wrists; her head is submerged, the faucet is still running steaming hot water. The next thing I know I am kneeling by the tub pulling her out. My hands and knees are on fire from the hot water; she's as light as a feather, her face as frail and pale as one. I hated seeing her. She was smiling. I'm not sure if I screamed, I'm not sure what I said, every bit of me is wet with blood and water. I shake her, begging her to live, asking her what the fuck she just did. I heard someone running up the stairs then Tita Linda's blood curdling scream.

I wish that by hugging her blood that stained her perfectly polished tiles would stream back into her pale and lifeless corpse. I think I was crying, sobbing hysterically. I felt hands pulling me away from her, I pushed them away. Soon enough, I'm kneeling by myself in the bathroom. There's someone trying to get me up; whispering things that should calm me down, console me, I'm not sure. Gentle hands pull me up by my shoulders and lead me out of her wet death chamber. My throat's sore, someone asks if I want anything to drink. Dad is sitting on their bed, shaking his head shrugging. I hate his face just as much, if not more, than hers. It was blank. He was talking to the police man like he was discussing the best kinds of donuts to eat with coffee.

Images of all the fights he had with my mother flashed in my memory. From the smallest arguments to when they had a screaming match right here in their room. It ended with the one they had last night. About where to send me for college. I'm not sure what they had said, or argued. The second I heard my dad call her a 'hare-brained rat' I put my head phones on and blasted the loudest music on my playlist. My fist made a surprisingly wonderful and satisfying crunch sound when it hit his nose. I called him a 'Son of a bitch who deserves to rot in hell' I think he would've hit me back, but the men in blue were pulling me out of the room. I still kept screaming though, all the curses and obscenities that came to my mind. I shoved the man nearest me away, went into my room and locked the door.

It's not like I was any better than my dad. I was just as an ass to her as he was. I threw myself on my bed and cried like I never have. I said sorry, I don't know if she heard me. I said that I love her; I hope she could hear me. I said that I wanted to die; I think she ignored that. I'm not sure if I lay awake or fell asleep after my eyes stung from dryness. But I began choking on a dry sob when I remembered that my mom had just killed herself.


	8. I saw Him

Saturday, April 7, 2018, 6:30pm

(Alba is 16)

**Alba: **The next time I saw Pete was at a charity event mom was invited to. It was a concert-slash-art-exhibit being held to raise funds for children with cancer. Mom would be showing and selling her painting by day then at night we would watch the charity concert. In the hotel room I ran over the list of performers, there were a bunch of washed up singers, children's choirs and my eyes spotted the name: " Nantucket High School Glee Club with a solo by Peter Hale" I was fidgety the entire day. Freaking out if he'd see me, then I'd tell myself how stupid I sound since I'll be in the audience and he'll be onstage. I stood with mom and helped her sell a couple of her paintings.

And then there he was. Well…there they were. There were about six guys, Pete included, looking at the paintings. It was kinda obvious they were in some kind of group, as they were wearing matching suits. The girls were standing on the other side of the room, wearing matching sea green dresses, giggling to themselves. I quickly moved behind one of the potted plants and watched as him and his friends moved around the hall looking at each work intently. They stopped at my mom's area. Then one of the guys, he had curly strawberry-blonde hair, smacked Pete on the shoulder and whispered, rather loudly, "Dude…that dude in the painting looks like you. What the hell's up with that?" Pete looked at the painting and shrugged "Coincidence." One of the other guys looked at it and nodded "Yeah. Hey, what if this lady is like…psychic."

Pete looked fed up, and I would be too if I was surrounded by this many idiots, he rolled his eyes and said, with beautiful sarcasm reeking from his voice, "Maybe, she's a crazy stalker-lady who sits outside my window with an intense camera."

"Like Lindsey." The curly blonde guy chuckled.

"This is stupid." Pete muttered "Look, Ron. It's food." He said grabbing the arm of another guy and dragging him to the buffet table. The rest of the male glee club followed along. I wasn't sure if Pete hated art, or hated the name that was attached to the art "Abshire-de Tamble."

I moved away from my cover and watched as the guys began picking at the food, avoiding the sweets. Though Pete didn't touch anything, he just stood by and watched them.

One of the chefs was sharpening his carving knife, preparing to cut into some kind of meat. I'm not really sure what happened, maybe the guy's arm slipped or something, but next thing I know a sharp cry is heard and the guy's wrist is bleeding. But he's got in under control, picking up a towel and pressing hard on the wound then excusing himself from the hall. Everyone is frozen for a second then they begin buzzing about what just happened, but Pete's frozen. I watch as he watches the other chefs begin to clean up the bloody station and prepare to throw away the spoiled meat. It's then that I notice the blood spattered on Pete's face. One of the waiters, apologizing the entire time, begins to hand him a towel. The guy I figure to be Ron, reaches out and touched Pete's shoulder.

He smacks Ron's hand away and I can hear him say "Don't…Don't touch me." The rest of the male glee are watching, there was something in their eyes. Pity, sadness. The waiter makes a move to try and towel the blood of his face, Pete does the same thing. He smacks the waiter's hand and says "Jesus Christ! I said don't touch me! Just…" he's breathing is heavy, and his hands are shaking. Almost everyone in the hall is looking, everyone else is pretending not to. "Please…just…just leave me alone. Okay?" Pete says, wiping the blood of his face and quickly walking out of the hall.

The guy with the strawberry-blonde curls apologizes and says "He has a…strong aversion to blood. Sorry." The entire glee club is ushered out by a middle-aged lady with salt-and-pepper hair. The next thing I know mom is standing beside me.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"About?"

"The kid. Either he's a prima donna or some traumatized soul."

"I'd like to think it's the second."

"Me too."

_(Later)_

The Nantucket glee sang three songs, they opened with "Day by Day" from Godspell and sang a cappella versions of "Seasons of Love" and "True Colors" They were really amazing. I watched Pete as he sang. He wasn't watching the conductor, the lady who escorted them out earlier, like everyone else, like he should've been doing. He stood starring up at the lights, like he was lost in the music. The yellow stage lights made his sapphire like eyes sparkle even more. When the applause died after they had finished "True Colors" Pete stepped forward gingerly, in his hand was a wireless microphone.

He watched as the conductor moved her arms, you could hear the people begin to whisper. They recognized him as the kid who 'rudely' yelled at the waiter. But their whispers suddenly stopped as he sang the first note, the lyrics slid effortlessly from his mouth as he looked up dreamily into the burning stage lights. The song was simple enough to recognize, "Somewhere over the Rainbow" It was a cappella once more, and it made the song even more beautiful. There were no harp frills, or the sound of the dramatic violins. It was just him and his perfect and beautiful tenor. And he didn't even try to sweep the audience off their feet using by using vocal acrobatics. He just simply sang it. Their conductor stopped conducting and stood watching him sing. The entire auditorium was silent.

"_If happy little blue birds fly…beyond the rainbow_

_ Why, oh, why can't I?..." _

His last note echoed for several seconds before the entire audience was on its feet clapping and cheering. He smiled bashfully, took a quick bow and returned to where he was standing in the formation. The people around him shoved him forward so he could take another bow, which he took awkwardly. People began screaming "MORE!MORE!" or "Bravo!" The conductor called him forward whispered something in his ear, he nodded and began saying something to the choir covering the mic with his hand. The rest of the choir nods and they all resume their singing positions. The audience becomes silent again. The conductor signals them to prepare, Pete brings the mic towards his mouth, the go signal and he sings "_Imagine there's no Heaven…"_ there's a slight applause then everyone is silent. I smile to myself. I could listen to him sing for the rest of my life.

Thursday, October 3, 2019, 2:00pm

(Alba is 18)

**Alba: **"Holy cow. If it isn't Alba de Tamble." I flip my math book shut and look up. Standing in front of me, with his hands in his pockets and sly smile etched on his face is "Peter Hale." I say, smiling. He looks exactly the same as he did when I saw him a year ago at that charity convention. "You remembered." He says.

"How could I forget?"

"Sooo…we're both in Yale."

"I guess so."

"Freshman?"

"Yeah. Sophomore?"

"Yeah. Course?"

"Electrical Engineering and Computer Science."

He makes a face.

"What?" I say chuckling.

"My brain stopped functioning for a fraction of a second."

"Sorry, I'm a nerd. Let me guess…Literature?"

"Close. Humanities."

"Ah."

"You wanna make a TV you can watch, don't you?" he asks suddenly.

"Did I tell you that?"

"No. I'm just good at guessing. Its how I passed math." I laugh and he looks at his watch suddenly. "Oohhh…"

"What?" I ask

"I have to be somewhere in ten minutes. Hey, I'm the in Duke's Men, a cappella-"

"I know the Duke's Men." I say smiling.

"Okay. We're having a mini-show later. You should come and watch."

"Sure."

"Great…well…I gotta dash." He says adjusting the messenger bag on his shoulder. "See you then." He begins to leave when I have the urge to say "You're not mad?" He turns to me and asks "About?"

"The wedding?"

He shrugs "Thing of the past."

"Great. See you then." He smiles and walks off. I smile to myself. So this is how we become great friends.


	9. Touchy

Wednesday, February 17, 2021, 6:00pm

(Pete is 21, Alba is 20)

**Pete: **The ring from Alba's phone catches my attention.I look up from the book I was speed reading and see Alba smile and giggle into her cellphone. Just from the glint in her eyes I know who she's talking to. My hand twitches and I know that it knows too and wants to throw the book at the stupid piece of metal she's holding so close to her ear. Her smile widens and I'm sure- Ray Castro- the half Indian half Spanish guy Engineering Major she's been dating for about a year. He's not a bad guy really, he's just not for her; he can't make her happy. Alba's smile fades and she lets out a soft 'oh…' not for long. I make eye contact with Brenda, her eyes flash: "Not a word" seems to be the message she's trying to get across.

Alba hangs up and stares at her phone for several seconds before jamming it in her bag and sticking her nose in her book. Brenda coughs lightly and asks "Who was it?"I briefly wonder if they can see my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Ray" She answers without looking up. Duh. Brenda nodded and went back to transferring her notes. I watch Alba as she stares at the same page of more than a minute; I watch her eyes flit back and forth through the paragraphs then stop at a solitary word, I can easily spot the way she quickly blinks like she's trying to memorize what she's reading. But those quick blinks don't hide the water building up in her eyes. I could almost count it down. Three. Two.

"He cancelled again." One. Brenda was right on cue, touching Alba's knee and saying "Oh, sweetie. You know he loves you." Alba remains silent and stone faced.

"Sure. But it'd be nice if he actually said it." I mutter to the captured picture of Hitler and his funky moustache. Sure that he was a mass-murdering-maniac but at least the man looked like he agreed with me.

Brenda's icy glare was blocked by the thick book I propped open in front of my face.

"You don't think so?" Alba silently whispers. Hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes me feel sick and disoriented.

"I…don't see why he wouldn't." I answer.

Alba's face darkens "God, Pete. Why do you have to be such a liar?"

Brenda looks like she's about to say something gooey and positive so I cut her short and slam my book shut, "He's a jerk, Alba."

She promptly follows my example and the bang of her math book echoes through the room.

"He's not a jerk. He's a-"

"'A sweet, sensitive and intelligent guy who wants to change the world.' I know. You rub that in my face every day."

"I '_rub that'_ in your face every day?" her voice is steadily rising.

"Yes, you do. Along with the fact that I'm an idiot just because I don't speak math and chemistry and physics and worship Newton or…or Einstein or any one of those guys who blew things up to 'make a world changing discovery'" I snap back imitating Ray's accent and dopey voice.

"That's how you feel?"

"Yes…you shouldn't be with him. He…he breaks off dates all the time. He's not worth your spit."

"It's hard for him to find time with his busy schedule. You know he actually tries and studies unlike some students who are okay with just a C plus."

A soft sarcastic chuckle escapes me "Average student I may be, at least I actually find time to sit around and talk with my girlfriend. At least _I_ _make_ time for you."

"This isn't about Ray, is it?"

"Of course it's about Ray. It's about how Ray cares more about Trigonometry than you."

She shakes her head "It's about you. _You, _Peter Hale. It's about how you, Peter Hale, the "Heartthrob of the Ivy Leagues", the "Star of Duke's Men", the "next best singer since _Annette Lyn Robinson_" At this point I felt myself cringe, Alba had said that this was her favorite thing that someone had said about my singing. And now? And now she was using it against me. But that wasn't the end; she continued "_This_ is about how someone like _you_ can get any girl he wants except the little-time-traveling-geek-in-the-corner girl like me. Your ego is so…huge that you can't get over the fact that there is nothing between us. The kiss in the garden? That was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I love Ray. Not you; never have, never will" when she finished her voice was shaking and tears were rolling down her face.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. I picked up my bag and shoved the heavy book in. Slung it around my shoulder and left the room. Pretty soon I found myself sitting on a bench under the huge oak tree. I wish I could say I was upset, or sad, or angry. But I really wasn't any of those things. All I really felt was disappointment.

**Alba:** I watch as Pete leaves the room. My hands are shaking; my eyes are sore and wet. Slowly, very slowly I take my seat and open the math book.

"Alba?" I hear Brenda's thin voice ask. Gosh. I forgot she was there.

"Hmm?" I ask trying to wipe the wetness from my face.

"We both know you didn't mean that."

I shoot a look at her. She's frowning and her lips are pursued together like she's trying not to blurt too much out. "Of course I meant it." My words escape in barely a whisper.

She eyes me for a moment then shrugs "Please yourself, darling." After that I can barely look at her. Ray calls to say he's sorry and to ask when to re-schedule. I find that I don't really care that much anymore. I don't care if we see the German film festival together, or go to the new restaurant a block away, or take a road trip during spring break, or go dancing at a night club. I really don't; because, I know I have Pete to take me to the movies, have dinner, drive a car for 12 hours straight and dance with me until my feet hurt and he'll carry me home. I know I didn't mean it. Brenda knows I didn't. All I can hope for is that Pete knew I didn't mean it.

Saturday, February 20,2017, 2:45AM

(Alba is 20, Pete is 21)

**Alba: **When I arrive at the party it had already considerably died down. Several people were swaying to some hypnotic-chant like music, others were smoking what I think to be pot, and a couple of Pete's friends were playing a drunken monopoly in the kitchen. It was a quiet and yet insane kind of party. There was no loud music splitting speakers wide open, the booze was pretty much the same, drunken shouts were those related to insane revolution like ideas and such. I felt woozy, parts of my body throbbed, I was upset. I was upset because I was supposed to be happy; I was supposed to feel content. I just felt embarrassed.

My tired feet lead me to the backyard pool. I knew Pete would be there. And I was right. He wasn't swimming, he never swam. He was leaning against the wall of the house, his legs pulled up to his chest, he looked drained but not drunk, and there was a bottle of beer hanging from his fingers. And Red was with him, of course she was. Red is in every aspect a sharp art like beauty. Her cheeks are beautifully high and chiseled, her nose is a perfect long length, her grey eyes are wolf shaped and the bright red of her hair styled with a punk like pixie cut. She's strangely everything I want to be and yet don't want to be. With her army boots, and fishnets, a tight leather skirt and shimmery silver top. Like Tinkerbelle going to a rock concert.

I glance down at what I'm wearing, a pink plaid shirt and dark jeans, and feel as if I just rolled out of bed. Pete looks up and smiles at me "Hey…" he mutters

Red looks up too and grins wildly; I never noticed how white her teeth were "Hey! What took you so long?"

"Lost track of time." I say shrugging.

"Time…" Red echoes "What time is it?" she asks turning to Pete, who glances at his watch.

"Quarter to three."

"Damn! I gotta get home and study I've got a test at 11."

"You want me to walk you?"

She laughed "Quite a gentleman. But it's fine. It's only two doors down." She turns to Pete and gives him a long kiss, I look away. Awkward. "Pick me up after my test?"

"Yeah." He takes her hand and helps her stand up. As she's leaving she gives me a quick hug and a friendly peck on the cheek. Now that she's gone I can't remember why I went looking for Pete in the first place. He smiles at me and taps the empty space beside him. Automatically, I sit down. "I'm sorry." I whisper.

"What about?" he asks.

"Wednesday."

"Thing of the past. Which, in actuality, it is." Is his casual reply while taking a sip from the bottle. He scrunches up his face. "God…I hate this stuff."

"So why do you drink it?" I ask taking it from him and sniffing it. Gross.

"It's the only thing they have."

"You should probably bring your own drinks then."

"Yeah." We both start laughing. He takes the bottle back from me and sets it beside him. The words I want to ask him are perfect in my mind. I try and ask him, he says he didn't catch what I said. I shake my head and say never mind. We change the subject to soccer then to any other topic related to soccer and I shoot the question out. Fast. Like ripping off a band-aid: "Do you and Red have sex?" I can't look at him. My face turns red. Ironic.

"What?" he finally asks.

I sigh and scratch my wrist. There was no point in changing the subject, "Do you and Red…make…love?"

"Alb…guys don't really feel as comfortable with the term 'make love' as they are with 'bang her' or… 'nail her' or more formally, 'bed her'. You know the Bible refers to sex as 'planting'-"

"Pete. Please don't."

"Okay. Yes." As straight forward and honest as that. That's why Pete's the best person to talk to.

"Is she…the first girl you did it with?"

He takes some time to answer "No."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna ask?"

I look at him and feels that's he's prodding me to ask. He knows I want to know, but he also knows that I don't want to know. Doesn't make much sense to me either. "Who was it?" I finally ask.

"Nessa Banks."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Prom night."

"And?"

"And…we did it on my dad's yacht. And…I agreed to it for the wrong reason. And I felt really stupid and yet somewhat proud about it for about a year or so."

"Why?"

He lets out a long breath "When you…do it…with someone it should be because you really, really, care for them and trust them. You know? That….let's say…love…should be the one propelling you. Not the fact that you're silently rebelling against your dad."

"You didn't love Nessa?"

"I did. Yeah. But when I thought about it I was more excited about the fact that a.) I would be doing something my dad would kill me for because b.) it was in a place that he holds sacred, I had to steal his key to use it."

"And Red? Is it real with her?"

He smiles and says "As real as a definition can define. Why?" I shake my head.

"Don't do it with Ray." He adds suddenly. My heart beat quickens.

"Why?"

The look he gives me is grave, as though he's about to say something serious, philosophical or incredibly deep. And with his voice still strict and straight he answers "Because he's more turned on by the Pythagorean Theorem than your lady bits." I burst out laughing. Pete reaches out and pinches my cheek. We're both laughing and I slump against his shoulder. I doesn't really matter what Pete said. I feel guilty. "Don't do it with Ray" he said. I want to cry to run back to my dorm and cry under my blankets. Because I already did.

* * *

**Hey, Readers:)**

**Sorry for the really long break. I was trying to finish my other fic (Hearts Call) but now I have. So THIS and COLLEGE ( 0_o ) are my only priorities:))))) **

**Review Please:)**

**More to come_Cole_  
**


	10. Family First

Sunday, May 29, 2022, 12:30 pm

(Alba is 20, Pete is 23)

**Alba:** I have learned that Pete and his brother look nothing alike. Pete's face is soft and radiates his down-to-earth qualities. His brother's is strong and rough, and he looks like he's always contemplating life. The only thing they have in common is their brown hair – though Tommy's is a shade or two darker. Tommy and his fiancée, Princess Diana's clone in my opinion, sat to my left. They were the only members of his family who showed up. His grandparents on his mother's side were both dead, his mom was…with them, his father's parents were in Wales and I don't know where his dad was. I didn't wanna ask Tommy. I wondered if Pete knew.

It was after the graduation ceremony when I figured out that he didn't. He jogged up to us; his smile was practically stretched across his face. I couldn't help but smile too. Tommy gave him a "man-hug" and said "Congrats, Pete. You didn't fail out of college."

"I know. Surprise, surprise right." His eyes darted from Tommy to Elizabeth- the fiancée- to me. Tommy was saying something about the fruits of labor when Pete cut him off "Hey…where's dad?" Pete has never said anything good about his dad, to me at least. I wondered why there was such a sincere tone in his question, not mockingly like I had expected. "…where's dad?" His dad who put him through grade school, then middle school, high school and now college; his dad who should be here congratulating his son for receiving a special award for his proficiency in languages, leadership and a commemoration for leading the Duke's Men to victory three years in a row, and his diploma, which made him an official Yale graduate.

Tommy coughed awkwardly "Well…he…got caught up in the hospital. He's been made the head of the Cardiology Department." For a second Pete's eyes read – "You're kidding, right?" just for a second. He then shrugged and smiled saying "Right. Yeah."

"Congratulations, Peter" Elizabeth said in her thick Swedish accent, giving him a peck on each cheek. "Thanks." He turned to me and grinned. I handed him the stuffed bulldog in a toga and gave him a huge hug "Happy graduation, Pete!" I whispered. Pete practically had me on tip-toe with his huge hug. When he let me go he planted a huge kiss on my cheek and said "Well, I'm starving. Let's go to Lovees."

Lovees is a tiny Filipino cuisine restaurant Pete found in one of his 'adventures', meaning he was with his hippy friends on a joy ride around the state. It's a family owned restaurant, which is why I think Pete likes it so much, because it's so snug. Their menu's pretty simple, burger steaks, sausages, pork barbeque- all with rice, naturally. My favorite thing about Lovees is the friend egg; it's cooked in the shape of a heart. They also serve Filipino favorites. Like Sinigang- a really sour vegetable soup- Adobo- it's a certain way of cooking meats of vegetables in soy sauce- Pinakbet- another vegetable meal- and desserts like ensaymada, bibingka, halo-halo and other really good food. It's a really great food tripping place since it's really cheap.

When we arrive there's a huge banner slung on the far wall that says "Happy Graduation, Pete!" I had called them the other day to tell them that in all probability we would be eating here for his grad lunch. Mang Arnold, the owner, ran up to us and gave Pete a big hug and started talking in really fast Tagalog. Pete answered him and they walked arm-in-arm to a table laid out with graduation themed confetti. I let Pete do the ordering, though I ordered a glass of gulaman for myself.

Pete and his brother didn't really talk much. Elizabeth kept the conversation up, talking about the wedding later on in the year. It was going to be in Sweden, in the tiny chapel in the village which she had grown up in and, as Pete jokingly told me when Tommy and Elizabeth left, there would be "many different herrings." In an insanely hilarious and cartoon-like Swedish accent. We stayed in Lovees until around 8 in the evening, and I had never eaten so much food in my life. I really felt like I would explode. Pete had suddenly gotten silent and began spinning his fork on the worn plate.

It's interesting how good he was at hiding his emotions. The entire afternoon he had been the best graduate ever. Laughing at every joke, making equally or more funny jokes, keeping up the conversations, assuring his brother that he knew just what to do with his life even though he didn't have a clue and pretending that he understood why his father couldn't be there. He acted though everything was working out, because in truth, it really wasn't. He and Red had planned to go backpacking through Africa during the summer after college, which is why he hadn't done anything to secure himself a job. Red had dumped him a day before the graduation for their Spanish teacher's daughter, he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Then of course his dad hadn't shown up, or even called, or even answered his phone when Tommy tried to call him.

I did the first thing I could think of. I hugged him. He rested his head on my shoulder and I felt a few tears run down my neck. "He hates me" Pete breathed through his sobs. I couldn't say anything. I just hugged him while he cried. I'd like to think that that's the best thing a friend can do.

Tuesday, June 10, 2025, 12:30pm

(Pete is 26)

**Pete: **Her eyes were huge. I could tell that she didn't know what to say, what to feel; there was happiness, there was sadness, there was panic even. Her fork was resting on a bed of lettuce, her finger was resting on its. "What?" she finally whispered.

I have to take a deep breath before repeating it: "Alba's pregnant, mammy."

Clare shakes her head slowly, and then she nods. Alba doesn't know that I'm having lunch with her mom, I told her I had to meet with my manager, and she bought it. I've been calling Clare 'mammy' for the longest time. It started when she bought me a 'Gone with the Wind' tin lunch box for the surprise birthday party Alba threw for me when I got back from Wales. The name stuck.

"You're not happy?" she asked.

"I don't know. I know I am. Inside."

"It's yours though, right?"

"Yes. As far as I know."

"Are you guys gonna get married?"

"No. I want to. I've wanted to. But…you know. She doesn't want to mess up the future because 'future Pete' said we're not…and it's just…"

"What?"

The only person who I could talk to about Alba was her mom. Sure, my friends once in a while. But they'd never get it. Never. Because none of their girlfriends have been able to time travel. Clare would know. Clare understood. She understood the worry, the long periods of absence, the confusion. She knew, and she wanted to help me, because I knew too.

"Let's say 'future Pete' didn't lie. And we don't get married. What happens to Alba? What happens to the baby? Is…is she…" I lower my voice "will she lose it? Will…she…" my eyes hurt, my voice shakes "will I lose her?"

Clare's eyes tear up: "I don't know. She…might lose it. But I don't know what next. I lost six."

"Yes."

"Do you think you'll lose her? We'll lose her?"

It's hard to look at Alba's mom and say this: "I don't know."

_Later_

I drove Clare to the airport, because it seemed like the right thing to do. I waited as she checked herself in for her flight to Chicago. I walked her to the security gate.

"Maybe I should move back here for a while." She said, turning to me. I shrug. She gives me a big hug.

"Why do we let these time traveling people screw our lives over?" she asked, smiling sadly.

I can't help but smile "I'd like to think it's because we love them."

She takes my hand and squeezes it: "It is."

"Yeah."

"Take care of her. Of both of them."

"I will."

"I know." Then she takes her bags and I watch her pass through the metal detector. And I'm not sure how long I'm standing in the check-in terminal of the airport. I'm happy and excited; because I might be a dad. I'm terrified and nervous; because I might lose one or both of them. I hope I'm over thinking the situation.

Wednesday, February 22, 2034, 5:00pm

(Pete is 35)

**Pete: **I had been sitting in the hallway for two hours. I knocked on his blue door again. "Please open the door. Please. Please."

"I don't want to. I don't." Franc said. I jiggled the house keys in my hand, it would be so easy to just unlock the door and walk in. But he didn't deserve that, he deserved his privacy. But I deserved to know what was wrong. Right? Damn, I thought, what do I do, Alb?

When I picked Franc up from school he was silent and stone faced the whole ride home. We passed by a billboard of a movie I was in that was coming out soon. He would usually point to these movie ads, or CD posters and say "Look, dad! It's you!" and I would smile and nod and if it was a movie he would ask "Can I watch that?" and I would say "Maybe." But he didn't do that today. And I waited for him to. But he didn't. Then I felt uncomfortable because I knew that something was wrong. Upon parking the car in the garage he ran out and locked himself in his room. He hadn't come out since. Even when I cooked his favorite sausages and practically emptied the ketchup bottle on it; the way he always ate them.

"Okay." I said "I'll be in the music room." So I went to the music room and sat at the piano and wondered what could be wrong. The keys felt smooth and moved smoothly as I played a chord. And then another one, then I sang the song I had heard on the radio on the ride home.

"_Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes  
Come on and come to me now.  
Don't be ashamed to cry, let me see you through  
Cause I've seen the dark side too.  
When the night falls on you, you don't know what to do,  
Nothing you confess could make me love you less  
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you,  
I'll stand by you.  
So, if you're mad get mad, don't hold it all inside,  
Come on and talk to me now.  
And hey, what you got to hide? I get angry too  
But I'm alot like you.  
When you're standing at the crossroads, don't know which path to choose,  
Let me come along, cause even if your wrong  
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you,  
I'll stand by you.  
Take me into your darkest hour, and I'll never desert you.  
I'll stand by you.  
And when, when the night falls on you Frankie, you're feeling all alone,  
You won't be on your own, I'll stand by you. I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you. I'll stand by you  
Take me in into your darkest hour and I'll never desert you  
I'll stand by you."_

He came in halfway through the song. I had left the door open so he would hear it. I wanted to stop and just hug him when I saw his tear stained face. But some strange force of nature was telling me to keep going. Maybe it was Alba. I wasn't sure. But I did. And when I finished he sat next to me and he let me hug him. Franc was eight, and small for his age. He cried a bit more and finally said "I don't understand." I knew what he was talking about, I let him continue "It's not bad is it?"

"No, it isn't."

"So…why do they say it is?"

"I wish I knew."

Then he looked up at me and wiped his nose "And you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you…do you think I'm a…" I could barely hear his whispered voice "a…fag?" I have never felt so angry in my entire life. My heart burned, my brain was buzzing the blood in my veins was boiling. I didn't want to show it to him; he didn't need to see that. He needed to see that his dad loved him. So I pulled him on my lap and held his face with my hands. He was so small. "No. I don't. I think you're wonderful and perfect no matter what you do or who you choose to be. Do you understand? Don't let those kids tell you who are. Please. Don't. Okay?"

He nodded "Okay."

"Because what they say doesn't matter, what matters is how you deal with it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Because their words can't change you. Only you can change you, right?"

"Right."

"Do what you love, because you love it. And you love it, right?"

"Right. I do. I really do."

"So what now?"

He smiles up at me "I love you, dad." I laugh.

"I love you too, squirt." I hug him tight. "Are you gonna tell me who said that to you?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm gonna kick their butts."

"DAD!"

"Fine. I'll kick their dad's butts, how's that?"

He takes a moment to think "That's sounds okay."

"Okay." I carry him to the kitchen and sit him down on the table. "Eat your food." I say gesturing to the sausages that were still warm. He ate them up, quickly and asked "Will you help me with math?"

I let out a small groan.

"PLEASE." he says.

"Okay. I'll try."

He smirks and says "Because that's all we can do, right?" It's like something tugs at my heart. That was so incredibly Alba I almost broke down. But I held my own "Right."

I miss her.

* * *

**Wooh:)) I won't be able to update for awhile coz I too would like to graduate college in 4 years:))) Reviews as always, please:) I usually wait for three before making the next chapter so I can get the right feel:)**

**That's All:) Take Care**

**_cole_  
**


	11. 2024: Oh, Boy

Tuesday, September 3, 2024, 5:00PM

(Alba is 23, Pete is 26)

**Alba: ** I was coming in, he was going out. Well, getting ready to go out. Pete was wearing his blue sweat suit and was tying his shoes. I couldn't help but grown as I threw my coat over the couch. I made my way to the sad excuse of a kitchen and poured myself some juice.

I hated it when he ran. I really did. I wished he went back to swimming, had found a way to get back to it. He walked up to me and gave me a quick peck on the neck.

"65 minutes." He informed me, and was walking to the door. In 65 minutes he would come back in a foul mood because of vendors, cabs, and sweat. But he wouldn't admit the last part. It's just something I knew. My mind was racing; today was awful and exhausting and I wasn't in the mood to talk to him when he gets back from his run.

"You ran yesterday, you don't have to today." I said to him.

"It's exercise. I don't wanna be one of those guys who dies of a heart problem at 30."

It's slut time. "You know…running isn't the only form of exercise." I slowly turn to him and give him the eyes. He's frozen at the door; at least I got his attention. "I read that sex burns more calories than running…in a shorter time. And we'll both get exercise." I move towards him and begin kissing his neck and making little purring sounds. He's breathing heavily. God. Men are just too easy.

Next thing I know is that we're on the couch and we're grinding on each other and kissing madly. I begin to take of his jacket when he stops suddenly "Wait. You…you don't like sex after work."

"Can't a girl have some irregularity in her wants."

"But…"

"C'mon…you know you want it…."I purr and place his hand up my skirt. It's then that I realize that I've gone too far and Pete knows it too. "Uhm…I don't want to. I'm scared." He says and climbs off me. He heads to the door and I sit up and say "I don't want you go to running because you come back a whiny little girl." Done. I said it.

"What? No, I don't."

"Yeah. You do. And I know that you want to exercise, and that's good. But running? It doesn't matter if you can run good if you hate it so much."

He looked absolutely irked "No running? You suggested it. Because you didn't like that I kept swinging around a tennis racket or lifting weights…or…the other sports I've tried."

"Yes, because you're such a _sporty dude_. By the way does your ass still hurt from when you got it kicked playing soccer with a bunch of 4th graders?"

"Hey! Those kids were huge and they were English which means that they'd been training since they were in their stupid diapers. You know me, Alb. I can't just bum around, I need something physical. And not just sex. Though I love sex. It's just…yeah…"

"What about swimming?" I knew I crossed the line before I crossed it.

"You used to love it." My voice was becoming softer and softer.

"Yeah. Used to. Before my mom died and decided to swim with me." The bitterness that filled his voice hurt me. His face had turned red and his eyes were filled with all kinds of emotion. God, I felt selfish. I couldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry." I mutter turning away and starring out of the kitchen window. Silence fills the air. The studio we share is long, but narrow and in a microsecond he moves from the door to next to me on the couch. His arms find their way around me and I rest my head on his shoulder. A soft kiss is planted on my head "Me too. I'm sorry…I'll stay in. Let's watch a movie. What do you want to watch?"

"I'm not really…in the movie mood."

"Okay. How about a board game? Scrabble?" I don't answer. "Battleship? Strip Poker?" he runs his hand under my shirt and cups me. I burst out and laughing and turn to him, draping my legs over his knees. "Let's just make dinner together. A whole meal. With soup, salad, dessert and everything/"

"Chocolate?"

It's bad for his singing, but I don't care "Chocolate. And some wine…"

"Mmm…how French. Wait, wine or grape juice? You're not supposed to…"

"One night's fine."

"Okay…and some wine. And some bedtime loving?"

"Lots of bedtime loving."

He grins smugly "Let's just skip the dinner and hit the bed." I give him a playful slap and begin to get the groceries out of the bag. He moves in and begins to help me. It's like a system, really. We move together and yet individually. We don't talk. It's not needed. Our eyes will meet and we'll smile at each other. Our hands will graze each other and our fingers will wrap around each other. Those little moments and touches are things I'll keep in my heart for a lifetime.

Saturday, April 13, 2024, 3:17 am

(Pete is 26, Alba is 23)

**Pete**: A cold hand wrapped itself around my bare shoulder. I woke up. The first thing I thought was that someone broke into my apartment and was going to rape or kill me or something. But then I remembered that Alba slept over and that the fingers around my arm were hers. A grown-up sleep over after a wonderfully quite birthday party. Jesus, I miss quiet birthday parties. With people you actually give a like, not people you need to suck up to. I miss quiet parties. And the crazy love making afterwards was a bonus. I was about to fall asleep again when I heard her whisper: "I'm back."

What? "Hmm?" The aftermath of sleep was still keeping my eyes shut.

"I said 'I'm back.'"

"Where'd you go?" She's a time traveler. She went through time. Duh.

She didn't answer right away. Oops. "You didn't notice I was gone?"

No, I didn't notice. I was asleep. I turn on my back and face her "Uhm…no?"

She frown irritably "Okay…so I just vanish and you don't notice. Swell." With that she plops down on the bed and turns her back to me. Note to self: Never let Alba get tipsy, she become insanely moody.

"I…I'm sorry. Hey. Hey. Sorry."

"Whatever." I hate it when she does that.

"Whaddya want me to do? I'm sorry. Really, I am. Really. "

"Stop being Holden Caulfield and leave me alone."

"You want space? I…I can hit the couch tonight…If space is what you want."

"Leave me alone." Okay. I'm too tired to argue so I get up and pull on my boxers and grab my pillow. My apartment is a studio so I'm thankful I don't have to open any doors to head to my living room. Just as I lie down and shut my eyes she says: "You're not even gonna try to make me feel better?"

I try not to groan "But I did."

"You call that trying?"

"I'm really, really sorry. Really, really sorry I didn't notice. I love you. I love you …_to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.  
I love thee to the level of everyday's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;  
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.  
I love thee with a passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,  
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death._"

She loved that poem. As Holden Caulfield would say…it killed her. It really killed her. She was silent.

"Alba, may I move back to the bed?"

"Okay…" she mutters. I get up and climb into the sheets with her, pulling her close and kissing her brow lightly. Through the glow of the bathroom light I could see the thought in her mind. "I'm sorry. You were asleep. I was being stupid."

"That's okay. We're both stupid."

She laughed "Don't let me drink again."

"I won't" She smiled and moved closer to me, her head resting against my chest.

"Hey, Alb?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I laced my fingers through her hair. It wasn't as fun anymore since she had cut it.

"Will you marry me?" She stopped breathing. I felt it. She stiffened and pulled away from me. She hated it when I asked that. Her eyes were teary.

"Oh, Pete…you know I ca…"

"Just 'yea' or 'nea'"

"No…I'm sorry. We can't…" She was about to cry.

**Alba:** He broke my heart. He promised. That question was off limits. We established that. By agreeing to it I'd be messing about with the future. I couldn't do that.

"Okay." He said. Without a trace of sadness.

"Huh?"

"Hey, Alb?"

"Pete? What…?" I was trying to hold my tears in.

He smiled. Why was he smiling? I just turned down his proposal. "Can I ask you something?"

"But…you did…What?" my mind was racing. What was going on?

"Can I ask you something?"

Sure, I'll bite "I…yes…"

"Will you move in with me?"

"Huh?"

He reaches over me to the bedside table; I hear the drawer open and close, then the lamp flicks on. In his hands was a key hanging from a key chain and it was beautiful. It was the kind of metal that looked aged, with green flecks on it, and I recognized it instantly. It was a lark, "Shakespeare's favorite bird" Pete always joked. He turned it over and engraved on it were the words: _Alba De Tamble _and the address to Pete's apartment.

"You see…I figured if you didn't want to marry me…we could move in together. And it's kinda like being married except you don't have to take my name, and if we get a kid it'll be a bastard, and if one of us dies we're not entitled to each other's stuff and money that's not in the will, and we won't share each other's funds-"

I cut him off with a kiss. I started laughing, and I hugged him even more: "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Woah…easy…I'm not nailing you yet…"

**Pete:** Humor is a strange defense. I hold her close and press my face to her neck. I'm happy, insanely happy. Except about our kid having to be a bastard- if ever there is one, and with the rate we go, there might be- that part sucks. But I'm happy. Really.

Saturday, November 23, 2024, 4:23 pm

(Alba is 23)

**Alba:** I was on my way out of the pharmacy when I found out I was being followed. But it wasn't the nerve racking being followed, the person wanted to talk to me, I felt that. So I made my way to the park and took a seat facing the lake and the ducks. Pretty soon a very young voice says "Hi. May I sit with you?"

I look up and see a teenager, roughly 16 years old, with striking blue eyes looking down at me. He was dressed snugly, with a dark red pioneer cap, black coat, scarf, slacks and leather shoes. Probably some kid from a nearby private school.

"All right." He takes a seat beside me. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet."

So he was that kind of person. "I see." He takes some time to give out any other information so I ask "You're a CDP?"

"I am."

"So you stole those….very nice clothes."

He shrugged "They were in some rich kid's dorm I landed in. He won't miss them."

"How do you know he's rich?"

"He had one of those…elite boarding school stickers on his stuff."

"Just because he goes to an 'elite boarding school' doesn't mean he's rich. He could've been a scholar."

"He's rich. You should've seen the furniture. And his suitcases were in mint condition. And looked very expensive. Holden Caulfield's roommate in one of his schools had a beat up suitcase that's how he knew he wasn't too wealthy."

I take a second glance at the boy sitting next to me. His profile looked familiar. Like I had seen him somewhere before, and his eyes. There was only one person who had those eyes.

"Oh, my god…" I breathe. He turns to me and smiles "Hi, mom."

My brain cannot process any words. Mom.

"Hi…" I manage to say.

"Don't worry. Pete's my dad."

"You call him Pete?"

"No. I call him 'dad'. But it just wouldn't make any sense if I say 'Dad's my dad.'"

"I guess not."

"Has he asked you moved in together?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Has he asked you to marry him yet? Now that you're living together?"

"No."

He takes time to think. "Oh, right…you can't be pregnant yet."

"I get pregnant?" that's a stupid question to ask your future son.

"Yes. Then he'll ask you to marry him, and you should say yes."

"But we don't…Should you be telling me this?"

"Yeah. You told me too. I came a little earlier though. It's still kinda hard to get the time right."

I try to absorb everything he's telling me "But…?"

"Just say yes. To make him happy. You don't get married."

It's said in such a matter of fact way it scares me.

"Do I…" Do I want to know? Yes. "Do I die?"

He scratches his eyes "No. You're just not there…anywhere." What does that mean? How can I person not be anywhere? This new thought…this future of mine, it scared me. It didn't make sense.

"What?"

"I don't know how to explain it. Dad comes home one day and you're gone. And nobody knows where you are. You're sort of lost in time, kinda. You left when you were 5 months pregnant with me. And I think…I dunno there was a glitch because of that. Anyway, I was born pre-mature, a month after you left. I see you sometimes, you're constantly traveling. Constantly. Last time I saw you was a week ago in my time and you asked me to come here and tell you. And…here I am."

It's too much to process "Oh, god…"

"I know…" he looks away suddenly "I want to tell you more…really…explain it…" He reaches out and takes my hand, I can see his slowly fading, dissolving. "I love you." He says.

"Wait! Wait. What's your name?" He opens his mouth to answer. But then I'm facing a pile of clothes. I take several minutes to breathe through everything I just heard. There's a name and address sewn onto the jacket, so I take the clothes, fold them and place them in one of the grocery bags. I then make my way to the listed building and drop them off with the door man saying I found them lying in the street. He assures me that the boy would get his clothes back. My son was right. The kid was rich. My son. He had a face, but no name. That scared me. It scared me a lot.

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**New chapter:D Yay. I'm hoping to update my sometime next week:)**

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**_cole_  
**


	12. The show must go on

**_Spoilers_ if you haven't watched Moulin Rouge! :)))**

**Hope you guys enjoy:) Reviews please:D**

* * *

Monday, January 16, 2023, 11:15 am

(Pete is 23, Alba is 22)

**Pete: **It's funny the way life opens up for you when you feel like you're stuck in a rut. Right after college, I did the first thing that came into my mind. Packed up and moved to New York. Alba said it was a stupid idea since the rent was too high and making it there was a long shot. I didn't mind. I knew what she meant; New York is a state away from Yale and, if she decides to move back to Chicago, five states away from Illinois. I would be leaving her behind, I didn't want to. Who would want to leave their best friend behind? But sometimes there was a voice nagging me to go there. So I followed it.

My first apartment was shared by an old Welsh couple who only accepted me because they knew my grandparents. It wasn't too bad, the rent was reasonable there were three square meals a day; the only problem was the constant smell of brandy in the living room and their tabby cat who insisted on sleeping in my room and hissing at me the entire night.

Upon arrival to the city I immediately got a job two blocks away from where I lived was a small bar, piano bar actually. The doors opened at six in the evening and closed at two in the morning. I worked the piano from six to two and sometimes helped clean up afterwards. Then I would sleep the afternoon away, eat, read then sleep again. Not a bad existence actually. I had been the 'piano man' for about three months when a woman with heavy make-up and a leopard skin coat said I should consider theatre. I had never acted before, I told her. "With a voice like that, who cares if you can act?" The next thing I knew I was in a small role in a small play about Maria Callas, Master Class. All I did was play the piano, sing a few bars of opera (which I was nervous about, having never done Opera) and deliver several short and simple lines. Not too bad. One of the guys handling the lights told me about an audition for a movie to stage adaptation of Moulin Rouge in London.

"The audition is in London?"

"No, it's a couple doors down." He said, lighting a cigarette "Can ya pull a brit accent?"

"I guess…"

"You want me to get ya an audition?" I said sure, because Master Class was closing in a week and I didn't want to be the piano man again in a bar that stank of alcohol and tobacco. It was pretty fast, the audition. I sang 'Your Song' delivered a few lines in the best British accent I could give and then they flew me to London for the second audition. With minimal experience I somehow scored the part; Christian from Moulin Rouge.

So here I was, opening day, waiting for Alba in the airport. I rocked back and forth on my heels and watched the passengers gathering their bags. Standing in front of carousel number eight I watched the bags from American spin around, I watched as people made grabs for theirs and wondered why Alba was taking so long to come out. Then I was suddenly scared. What if she had traveled while she was in the plane? What if she was stranded somewhere? I briefly considered calling her phone when I saw her coming out of the arrival zone. She's grinning madly and the her suitcase is almost as big as she is, but when she sees me she lets go and runs screaming into my arms.

It's been a year since I've last seen her so I pick her up in a huge hug and swing her around. After exchanging 'hellos', 'how are yous' and 'I missed you' I get her bag and bring her to where I parked my car. She's talking the entire time, bouncing beside me, like a little girl. She tells me that she's been following the TV ads of the show on-line and loves Peggy Rosse – she plays Satine- and can't believe that she's only 19. Neither can I really.

"Did you watch where I missed a line?" I ask her as I'm driving her to the apartment I'm renting. We both decided it would be economically better if she crashed in my apartment while she was here. We also agreed to keep that secret from her boyfriend. "I did" she answered "Don't worry. You covered it up perfectly. Oh! I guess all those Shakespeare plays and movies rubbed a friggin' amazing accent on you. I kinda forgot you were American for a while."

"Well, I was singing then. I'm scared for how it'll hold when it comes to the actual show."

"Don't worry. You'll be amazing." She says gently touching my arm. That's all the reassurance I need.

_Later:_

**Alba:** Watching the play reminded me of watching CATS. The second you walk into the theatre you walk into turn of the century Paris. The ushers and usherettes were dressed like cancan dancers and a thick red velvet curtain hung over the stage. People hardly noticed as the man dressed in a suit and bowler hat enters through the audience with a beaten up suit case. I did. It was Pete or Christian rather. He went up to a man sitting with his wife and asked directions to Montmartre. They stared at him blankly. Then the lights went off and a single spot light showed on a man peeping out of the side of the stage who sang the opening lines. Then came the overture.

Everyone laughed when the sleeping Argentinean suddenly fell from the top of the stage and nearly landed on Pete. They giggled as the bohemians argued over lyrics to use but everyone was silent when Pete belted "The hills are alive with the sound of music!" I found it amazing how everyone would be silent when he would start singing.

Satine came from over the audience. She was directly above me, and I stared as silver confetti rained over me. Peggy was gorgeous as she danced her way through the orchestra crowd and sat on the lap of a very shocked but pleased viewer.

The entire show was amazing. The sets, the costumes, the actors. Brilliant. I resisted the urge to stand and shout as the first 'Come What May' ended. But everyone was cheering after the finale and within a few minutes we were all sobbing as we watched Christian embrace and kiss Satine for the last time. As the lights dimmed it took several seconds for people to realize the show was over and begin clapping.

By the time Pete and Peggy came out to do their bows the entire theatre was on its feet applauding and shouting "Bravo!" The director and producers came on-stage to say their 'thank you' speeches. All the while Pete smiled and winked at me. And I was so proud of him because he was absolutely heart breaking as Christian. And I knew that Pete knew that he would be doing this for the rest of his life. He had found something that he could do for a living and love doing it. Accidents are funny that way.

Wednesday, August 11, 2038, Around 8 in the evening

(Alba is 39, Pete is 41)

**Alba:** I tumble onto a stone cold floor. I hear several horrified screams. Looking up I see a women wearing costumes, one of them recognizes me and pulls me up, draping a robe over my shoulders. She's pretty, around my age or younger with auburn hair and big pale blue eyes.

"You're Alba de Tamble, aren't you?" She has a very thick Yorkshire like accent. I nod confused. "Do you know where we are?" she asks, gently. I shake my head and find someone push a seat under me.

"We're backstage at the Imperial Theatre, in New York. You're son is on-stage right now."

"On-stage?" I mutter, even more confused.

The woman nods slowly "He's Billy. Billy Elliot." It's then that I fully understand what's going on. I feel a strange rush of emotions. Happiness, nervousness. I try to think of the last time I saw him. He was ten and he had a black eye and he told me he had got into a fight but refused to tell me why. This was why. "He…dances?" I ask.

"Oh, yes. Most beautifully."

"And acts?"

"Like a pro."

"Sings?"

"Like his father." She chuckles. A bald man pokes his head in and yells "Carol, you're needed in the wings."

"I'm coming." The woman tells him and turns back to me "Listen, I must go. You stay here, I'll get someone to tell Pete you're here. He's watching tonight. Along with your mum." An idea is rushing through my skull. It's impulsive but I have to try, I grab her hand.

"Have you done 'The Letter'"

"No, not yet. It's the next number."

"Who's playing Billy's mother?"

"I am."

"Let me. Please." She looks nervous; the bald man sticks his head in and calls for her again. "Carol, please. For my son. Please."

**Pete: **'The Letter' always gets me. I watch as Franc sings the beginning:

"_And I will have missed you growing,  
And I'll have missed you crying  
And I'll have missed you laugh.  
Missed your stomping and your shouting,  
I'll have missed telling you off,  
But please Billy,  
Know that I was always there.  
I was with you through everything.  
And please, Billy..."_

Mrs. Wilkinson – played by Peggy – catches him and sings her line. I'm waiting for Carol to enter and play Franc's mother. But it's not Carol's smooth voice that fills the air. It's shaky and emotional. I recognize the singer immediately and when she comes out I feel Clare's hand squeeze my wrist. It's Alba. She strides across the stage to where Franc is standing, starring at her, shocked. I see Peggy look up then quickly back down to the prop paper and continues singing. I can't move. I'm frozen.

Alba kneels and takes Franc's face in her hands and smoothes his tears away. Her hand is shaking. Mine are too. Alba has too pull away now, but Franc won't let go of her hand. She shakily pulls him off and walks off-stage, tears streaming down her face. Tears are streaming down everyone's faces. Mine. Franc's. Clare's. Peggy's. The Audience. Except our's are moved by something real, not the show.

_Later_

**Pete: **When they announced intermission Clare and I ran backstage to find Franc huddled in his chair sobbing uncontrollably. I thought they would change him for the next Act I numbers. But Franc's made of strong stuff and kept going. Which is why Clare and I waited for the intermission. Carol and Brody – another boy playing Billy – are standing beside him.

Clare runs forward and hugs Franc. I move to Carol "What happened?" I asked.

"She just showed up. She wanted to do the song, I let her. Right after she walked off the stage she was gone." She sobs, rubbing her eyes. Johnny – the stage manager- runs in and says "Brody, get ready in case Franc can't go on." Brody nods and begins to move away when we here Franc's tiny voice say "No."

"It's ok, Franc. I don't mind." Brody says gently.

"No." he repeats "I can do it. I have to. She might come back. She'll see me dance." Johnny looks at me asking for some help. I look at the state Franc's in, his runny nose and tear filled eyes. I don't want him to go on. I move to Franc and force him to look at me "Look, its okay. We all understand if you want to rest. No one is forcing you to go and finish this. None of us want to make you do something you don't want to do."

He looks at me steadily, his eyes reflect his determination "But I do want to. I can. Let me. Please."

"Some make-up could clean the red up." Clare says gently touching my back. Franc nods in agreement and says "The show must go on." Johnny and Carol chuckle silently.

"It will." I say patting his head lightly. "Can we get some make-up artists over here, please?" I shout. Johnny runs off looking for someone to clean up Franc. I can't help but smile as I watch the make-up hurriedly put on Franc's face. Clare and I decide to stay back stage and watch from the wings. I watch as Franc does 'Electricity' doing the 17 turns in the end perfectly. It's a shame Alba had to miss that.


	13. An Arrival

Saturday, February 20, 2027

9:12 AM

(Alba is 26)

**Alba: **Every part of my body hurts; I am covered in sweat and blood. I am laying on something cold and soft, like a cushion. I can feel hot tears running down my cheeks as I try and call for help. Then I hear the crunch of heavy boots and a woman is shouting something. The last thing I feel is a woolen blanket being thrown over my body and the last thing I see is an old and kind face looking down at me.

_Later_

Waking up, I find myself in a warm room. The ceiling above me is slanted, and pictures of flowers and watering cans are hanging on the log walls. My head is pounding and I have a cold, the thick quilt over me smells of roses and gives me the feeling of security. I close my eyes and listen. There are footsteps, and the soft tinkle of plates against a tray. The door to the room opened slowly and a woman in a pink flannel shirt comes in carrying a tray of tea and a slice of what I think is rum cake. The woman sets the tray on the bed side table and smiles at me.

"Hello. Do you speak English?" her voice tinted with a Southern accent long lost after living up north for some time.

"Yes. Where am I?" My voice sounds foreign and scratchy, tired.

"Maine. I found you two days ago…on my petunias. I should've called an ambulance but what with the snow storms…all the roads are blocked. What's your name?"

"Alba."

"What a beautiful name. I'm Annie Smith, pleasure to meet you." She said playfully as she reached her hand out to shake mine. She began shifting the pillows behind me and proceeded to feed me little pieces of the cake in between the sips of peppermint tea. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Confused, mostly." I shut my eyes and began thinking of the last thing that happened to me. There were doctors. There was screaming. Infinite pain. And then I remembered "When you found me was it just me?"

Annie looked surprised at my sudden mood change. "Yes. You were covered in blood. Naked."

What did that mean? Had it somehow worked? Was the baby safe? Was Pete with it? It would be on the news, wouldn't it? Over the past year Pete was all over the news, his sudden rise to fame was intense and happened faster than one could imagine.

"Do you have a television, computer, radio, telephone?" I ask frantically.

"Well yes. But the signal is down. My house is too far into the woods, but don't worry I was able to send my son out yesterday to fetch help at the town he should be back by tonight."

I sat around for the rest of the day. Watching Annie knit and tell stories about cats and her son, Adam. I didn't want to scare her. I smiled and nodded and told her I was tired so she left me to sleep. At first I wasn't sure I would sleep, I was panicking so much that there was no way I would get a wink of sleep. But funnily enough less than 5 minutes after she left I found myself snoozing away.

_Later:_

Annie was gently shaking my shoulder.

"The signal is back. Adam's downstairs fixing the TV. I'll help you walk." Her hands were strong on my shoulders as she guided me downstairs in the pink flannel pajamas that she had leant me. She brought a quilt with her which was draped around my shoulders as she sat me down on the couch. Adam was fiddling around with an old looking TV. He turned around and smiled politely at me. I smiled back. He was young, barely 18 even. With black curls and bright green eyes, like his mother's. Less than a minute later the TV was on and a news anchor was broadcasting something about a Chinese businessman.

Annie came in with mugs of hot chocolate for all of us and sat beside me. Adam sat in a leather armchair beside the sofa. They were a soft spoken pair, obviously. We all sat back and watched as more news around the world came on. I was tense as I waited for the Entertainment section to come on. And then it came: "_Up next: The search continues for singing sensation Peter Hale's run-away bride. And does baby Hale have a name?" _

My stomach was churning the entire commercial break. Annie was saying something, I decided to tune into her conversation in order to keep my mind from panicking even more.

"Tragic. Absolutely tragic, the poor man. He's a wonderful singer. Have you heard him sing? Adam and I were able to watch his show just before she went missing. Actually…wasn't that around the same time, Adam?"

"Just about…" Adam whispered into his cup.

"Terribly tragic. She's a beautiful…" and I think that's when she realized. Her face turned pale. Adam was staring at me. The news program was back on:

They showed a video of Pete in a black suit, standing under the blazing LA sun reading something his publicist must've written. The date on the right of the screen was three months ago. He was giving out details about me, when I had gone missing, the reward if anyone found me, how we were supposed to get married. He left out that I was pregnant. The segment continued to feature different picture of Pete and I with a voice over of an interview he did. Then it was another video a month after the first one. He was clearly thinner than before, he hadn't shaved, he sat stiffly in the armchair as the talk show host asked about plans for an upcoming album. "I'm not making one." he muttered, clearly irritated. The host tried to stumble from the awkward situation. "I'm not making one until I find her."

The host adjusted his neck tie "I see…well…I'm sure…"

"She's pregnant." He interjected. His face plain and serious.

"Pregnant? Your child?" the host asked, his eyes bulging from their sockets.

"Four months pregnant. My publicist thought it would be a good idea to keep that shut up. Because we're not yet married, it would look bad for some of my younger fans. Having a bastard child. But I don't care anymore. So I fired him." He faced the screen "My fiancée, Alba de Tamble, is carrying my child. Please find her. Please find them."

Without a second to lose Annie rose from her chair and said "Get me the phone, Adam." I smiled at them and felt the tears fall from my eyes.

Thursday, February 18, 2027

11:11PM

(Pete is 28)

**Pete: **The nurse was running in front of me. My heart was pounding. The call from Brian seemed like ages ago: "Pete, she's here! Come quick! I think the baby's coming!" I had been pacing in my apartment when it came. I had never moved faster in my entire life. It was still winter in New York, so I had pulled on the first coat I touched and bolted out the door. I ran 50 blocks, my legs were shaking, my head was spinning and I couldn't breathe. My right side was sore from the taxi which had hit me while I was crossing the street, but I couldn't care less.

The doors of the room flew open at my touch. The medical team stood in front of me, their eyes wide with…sadness. Brian was the first to get to me.

"Where…" I found myself gasping. My legs buckled and I found myself leaning against a nearby counter with a male nurse holding me up.

"Pete…" Brian's heavy hands were rested on my shoulders. I tried looking past him. "You missed her."

It was like getting hit by that taxi again. "Oh…that happens…" was all I could say. I missed her.

"I'm sorry." Brian said. "She came and she was in labor. Your son's head was almost out…it happened so fast. I called you…then I turn around and she was gone." His words were jumbled in my brain. I put them together slowly. My son.

"Where's…the baby? My son?" I asked. Alba's son.

"He's pre-mature, Pete. He's being taken care off. So you can't see him yet, ok?"

I manage to nod. I wanted to fight and yell and demand that I see my son. But there are just too many thoughts racing through my brain that I can't find any words to use to yell. So I nod and they lead me out to the waiting area. Brian asks me if I'm hungry. I tell him a cab hit me. The next thing I know is that I'm being scanned for internal injuries. It's clean. The only injury is my twisted ankle. I call Clare and tell her what happened the best I could. She said she's looking for the first flight over. Brian has to leave and go on-duty and I'm alone in the cold waiting room.

_Later:_

I'm not sure how long it's been. Brian is shaking me awake. He tells me I can see my son now. Brian is one of my few friends who is taller than me so he has a relatively easy time supporting me while I walk. We reach the ICU and I watch from behind the glass.

He's tiny and pink, with tubes and wires attached to him; he's in a little plastic box. He's unmoving. He's real. I move closer to the glass and watch him carefully. I can see his tiny chest move up and down delicately as he breathes in the sterilized air. Brian is explaining what they're doing, but I'm not listening. My heart is pounding the entire time. Alba was taken from me. And I keep missing her. If I blink or turn to listen to Brain my son might be gone when I look back. Just like that. I press my hand to the glass and watch his small chest rise and fall. I drink up this moment. It might be the last time I see him. I won't cry, tears will make my eyesight blurry then I won't be able to see him well. I imagine that the little tiny box around him cannot be touched by time; therefore he won't be able to travel. He'll stay there and I can see him and watch him grow and not worry about him being taken from me. Brian is pulling my arm, leading me away. I hold my ground. I will not leave him.

Friday, February 19, 2027

6:30am

**Pete:** He was being operated on. Barely a day on this earth and he was already in surgery. The waiting room is cold and not at all comforting. Clare hands me a cup of coffee. She pats my shoulder reassuringly. "Have you come up with a name?"

"No."

"There's no rush. It took Henry and I ages to come up with Alba."

"That's the thing though, Mami. You had Henry. Alba…is somewhere. I don't know where. And it's just me."

We're sitting in the waiting room, the only people hanging around at this time of day. She gently takes my hand in her's and kisses it lightly. "You're not alone, Peter. I'm here, ok?" It takes me several seconds to digest what she's said.

"I'm not sure if I should start thinking of a name yet. He's having heart surgery."

"Well, heart surgery or no he needs a name." she says taking a long sip of her coffee. Brian comes out of the operating room with a thin smile on his face. Clare and I both move to meet him.

"He's stable for now. The only thing we have to worry about now is if he travels. We've given him a very mild dose of some of Alba's medication. Hopefully it'll work…"

"They didn't work for Alba." The words came out more bitter than they sounded in my head. Brian's smile faded "Pete, no one was sure they would work for her while she was pregnant. It was a different matter altogether. I'm sorry-" Before he could say anything else I moved away and began making my way back to where they were keeping my son. Clare was right. He needed a name. I stood at the plexiglass window waiting for the nurses to wheel him back in.

Several minutes later there he was. The nurse smiled at me as she pushed him a little closer to the window. The material was freezing on my forehead. It was then that I realized that I had spent so much time thinking of where Alba is to even think of a name. Or even a list of plausible names. _William_ – like Shakespeare. William de Tamble Hale. _Orson de Tamble Hale. _There was a small bit inside of me that wanted to name him Holden, but that would be just mean. Just then a janitor passed by me.

"Do you have a son?" I asked him. The janitor turned to me with curious eyes.

"Nope. Five daughters." He replied.

"Oh. How did you name them?"

He shrugged. "I named them what they looked like."

"What does he look like?" I asked. The janitor shimmied over and peered at him.

"Henry." He said nodding. He looked at me expectantly. I wasn't going to name my son 'Henry' That would be too weird. It would be asking for a series of unfortunate happenings to happen to my unnamed son. Granted I thought Henry was a nice guy; but I didn't want to even suggest the same fate.

"Noted." Was all I could say "Thanks." Just as the janitor was about to walk away he turned to me and said "You're his dad though. Take your time. It'll just come to you." It came out of nowhere. It was like cheesy background music had come on and suddenly provided my son with a name.

"Franc." I said "Gianfranco, like the director."

The janitor turned back to me and smiled "Classy. I like it."

* * *

**I'm sorry that it's taken me a million years to update D: Aside from being kept busy with school I lost the notebook where I wrote all the dates for this story down so it's been hard:))**

**Reviews as always please:)**

**And a shameless plug...follow me on tumblr if you have one:) Feel free to suggest stuffs: .com**

**As always _Cole_  
**


	14. Paper balls and Ice Cream

**Sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. I tried to make this chapter as long as possible since I realized that I haven't written much about Alba's past so here it is! I apologize for the dates the internet is too slow for me to check each individual date like I usually do...but I'm not sure if any of you actually check the dates anyway. Just a heads up:)**

**Enjoy and Review as always, please:)**

**And HAPPY NEW YEAR:D**

**_Cole  
**

* * *

Tuesday 12th November, 2013, 12:30 pm

Alba is 12

**Alba:** For the most part of recess periods I stay alone. The other kids generally stayed away from me; not because they thought I was strange or anything. I chose to be alone. It was hard to read when you had to talk to people at the same time. After eating a simple snack I would make my way to the library and just read until the bell calls us for class.

It was lunch period and I was in the library reading Inferno by Alighieri when I felt a paper ball make contact with the back of my head. At first I thought it was my dad; he always popped up in the strangest places. I spun around and saw a tall boy leaning against the shelf smirking at me. He most definitely was not my father and he most definitely was not in middle school.

"Can I help you?" I ask trying to let him know that his presence is irritating me since it is interrupting my reading.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He answered smugly, shifting the weight of all the books he was carrying "Are you reading the right book? Don't you think it's a little…mature for you?"

"You'd know all about mature, wouldn't you? Throwing paper balls at people?"

His smile widens and I feel really silly talking to an older boy that way. A high school boy. I briefly consider apologizing but I can't find anything else to say as he takes two or three easy strides to the table and holds out a white book.

"This is _Purgatorio_. Seeing as you're at the close I thought you might like the…sequel." He waves the book in front of my face before I take it and whisper thank you. He seems to notice that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable so he adjusts his glasses and smiles knowingly. "Make sure you don't get any nightmares." He muttered walking away. I looked at the white book he handed me. Part of me wanted to throw it away and the other part wanted to keep it close and never let it go. Weird.

_Later:_

**Alba:** I was scolded several times during violin practice. I wasn't concentrating and grandpa could tell. He looked at me, he was irritated and his glasses were askew "What is wrong today, Alba? You practically mastered this piece two days ago." It was hard to look at him so I simply said "I had…bad lunch. I have a bad stomach."

His face fell as he said "All right. Let's call it a day. Get some rest."

I didn't wait for him to change his minds as I grabbed my violin books and ran upstairs to my room and locked the door. A man was sitting on my bed. He was dressed in the grey shirt and denim jeans I left under my bed. Just the man I needed to see.

"Dad!" I cried as I dropped everything I was carrying and ran into his outstretched arms. It was different, being hugged by my father. It was like nothing could go wrong. He had this certain smell, I couldn't describe it. It was comforting. It was what I would imagine love would smell like. I dug my nose into his neck so I could smell him more, to be closer to him somehow. I felt the vibrations of his light chuckle.

"God. You've grown." He said, pulling away and giving me a kiss on the cheek. Most girls my age would pull away and comment on how gross he was. But I hardly saw my dad so I let him. "I missed you." I said sadly. He pulled me back into his arms. "I missed you too, Alba. But. Time is of the utmost importance, we cannot waste a second. Let's get cracking."

Dad meant the survival lessons. Not like I needed them anymore. I knew how to pick any lock you put in front of me, I ran regularly to keep my endurance and speed up, I memorized all the maps so I wouldn't get lost if I was thrown somewhere, I knew where to find clothes, name it and I knew it.

"Can we just talk today?" I asked. He looked at me questioningly and nodded.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. What's up?" He asked adjusting himself on my bed so that we were facing each other.

It's funny how I asked if we could talk and I found myself lost for words "Uhm. What's happening?" I ask "In your time."

"Not much. You've just discovered Annie and you watch it every day. Mom has just had another exhibit. So she is positively tired. Accomplished. But tired. And you? What have you done today?"

"Violin lessons…didn't go well. It's hard to concentrate…"

His gaze suddenly turned dark "Hmm…and why is that?" I knew that look. That was the same look uncle Mark had when his daughter Rebecca brought home a boy from her High School named Toby. It was a funny look and it took me awhile to answer him properly.

I just shrugged and said "I don't know. I'm reading Inferno…it scares me sometimes."

His look softened and he nodded slowly "A little mature for even you, don't you think?" he said calmly patting my cheek. "It's interesting." I answered trying to be as non-defensive as possible. "It's gruesome."

"Poetically gruesome" I said winking at him. He smiled happily and squished my cheeks together with his hands. "I wonder where you got your brain."

"Mom says from you."

"I wasn't reading Inferno when I was eleven."

"Neither was I. I'm twelve."

Face palm "Right." He said shaking his head "you're twelve. Well, I wasn't reading inferno when I was in middle school."

We hung out for an hour or so until he was gone; leaving behind the clothes I kept under my bed for him. I folded them up and placed them back in the flower tin that I keep under my bed. Everything was routine after that, homework then some light reading. I finished Inferno and began Purgatorio when I heard the door open and my mother calling my name: "ALBA? I'm home."

By the time I got downstairs she was talking with grandpa. And no surprise he was telling her about my lack of concentration.

"I'm letting it slide this time…" he was saying wagging his finger in my direction.

"Thanks, grandpa." I mumbled as I went to mom and gave her a peck on the cheek. She brought home some Chinese take-out for dinner. We proceeded to help her unpack the food and plate it. The subject of my lack of concentration changed when mom began to discuss her ideas for a story book adaptation of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. We all had our own input.

"Keep it simple and light, for the kids" Grandpa says shaking a fork of noodles.

"You should make it rough, like a kid drew it. And use weird colors you can't find anywhere else" I said cutting some of my lemon chicken.

"I was thinking of using a collage feel to it." Mom said putting more chopsuey on her plate. Grandpa stayed after dinner to help with the dishes then he gave us a kiss on the cheek and said good night. He reminded me to practice for our next lesson. I promised I would. When he was gone mom looked at me and smiled.

"What's his name?" she said slyly.

I panicked. Who was she talking about "What?" I mutter turning away from her and quickly flipping though a magazine she had brought home. She gently pulls it out of my grasp.

"Alb…what's his name?"

The truth? "I don't know who you're talking about." I say still not managing to look her in the eye. It's not like I was lying. I didn't know his name. Should I describe him? He was tall; two heads taller than me. And his clothes? Dark jeans, a grey v-neck sweater, white polo and green and silver stripped neck-tie. He wore glasses, rectangular tortoise shell glasses. He had black hair, he had impossibly curly black hair that fell artistically around his face, it wasn't long; it just was. And his eyes, he had hazel eyes.

I briefly considered telling her this. But in the end I just shook my head slowly: "I'm going to get ready for bed."

She smiled and said "When you're ready, ok?"

"Ok." I answered as I went upstairs and began to get ready for sleep.

Wednesday 13th November, 2013, 12:31 pm

**Alba: **It took me several minutes that I actually wasn't reading. I was staring blankly at the page I had last stopped. I finally shut Purgatorio and opened my history text book, I had read through it over the summer, but it didn't hurt to read it again.

"Hermione. Hey." It was that guy's voice again. I looked up as several Atlases were plopped down beside me. He had ditched the grey sweater and was wearing a zipped up navy blue "Chicago" hoodie over a red collared shirt.

"Hi." I whispered, feeling stupid again. My stomach was turning, it wasn't hungry, and I had eaten.

"Hi. I need your help. Do you know who 'Martin Downsky 'is? " He asked flipping open a book about Africa and reading from it.

I nod "He's in my English class."

"Hmm…" he says thoughtfully. He shuts the book up and says "Well Martin Downsky must've misplaced his book here. I found it a few tables down. Would you mind giving it to him?" he asks handing it to me. I take it from him and nod.

"Yeah. Okay. So are you…like…a new librarian or something?"

"Sort of. Like…assistant librarian volunteer thingy." He mutters picking up the books "Which basically means re-organizing the books you children are so incapable of keeping fixed."

"Oh. So you study…"

"Across the street." He finished. "Done with Inferno?" he continues catching sight of Purgatorio lying beside my math book.

"Last night." I said not really looking at him. It was so hard to look at him.

"Nightmares?" he asks, smirking.

"Uh…no…none." I'm a good liar, usually. Not today, apparently. I had a nightmare. Dad was in the tar pit and the demons kept throwing their hooks at him and I tried to help. But I just couldn't. I woke up uneasy several times last night.

He raises his eyebrow skeptically "Right…I'll leave you to Napoleon then." His eyes glancing over my open history book. I smile and nod as he walks past me carrying the Atlases to the Geography section. I turn and watch him go. And just like yesterday I feel disoriented for the rest of the day.

_Later:_

**Alba: **The worst thing happened as I was unlocking my bike. The key broke. And I was upset since I had begged my mom to buy me a padlock which needed a key instead of a code so I could wear a key around my neck. I thought it would be cool. But I guess it was just a really stupid idea. I briefly considered lining up for the bus then changed my mind. Ginger Penn and her friends took the bus. I'd rather walk than sit for 10 minutes in the same vehicle as Ginger Penn and her friends.

I began to make my way across the long stretch of parking lot and guess who called my name. Well. Sort of my name.

"Hermione!"

I panicked at first. I wanted to reach up and check my hair but it wouldn't do any good. I was wearing a hat. So I turned and saw the library guy leaning against a dark green car. His hands were deep in his pockets and his school bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hi." I said trying to smile "…Tom…"

He made a face "Tom Riddle? I never thought of myself as evil."

"I just think you look like a Tom" I said laughing.

"Right. Okay. How was Napoleon?"

"We had a pop quiz."

"And you aced it?"

"Yeah" I said grinning happily.

"Awesome. High-five, Hermione." He said holding out his hand. We high-fived.

"Why do you park in the middle school?" I ask

"Because my little padawan." My heart skips a beat "as you will soon learn, all the cool high schoolers park in the middle school."

"Really?" I ask, chuckling a little.

"Yeah." He says shrugging nonchalantly "It's totally awesome parking where only the…faculty have cars…"

I was about to ask him his real name the high giggle of Ginger Penn "Hey, Parker!" Of course Ginger Penn knows him. Her older sister is the Queen Bee of the High School. To my dismay the guy – Parker, apparently – smiles at them "Hey…little Penn and friends."

"Hi, Alba sweetie" her voice is sickly smooth and I turn around slowly so as to adjust my eyes to the bright colors they wear. Ginger's auburn curls are in a tight pony tail today, showing off her doll like face and the pink powder expertly spread across her cheeks. Her minions are dressed in a similar fashion. Preppy. Pretty. Pink.

"Hey…" I mutter dryly.

"Nice pants it's a shame about those paint stains though. Makes them look a little last season, don't you think?" she says shaking her head lightly.

As usual I have no idea what she's talking about. I like my pants. My mom and I worked on them together. Lucky me I didn't have to say anything because she immediately turned her attention back to Parker.

"So, Parker. My friends and I were wondering if you could give us a lift to the mall? I'm sure Kelly would love to know how sweet you are to her baby sister."

Barf. I looked at my shoes and rolled my eyes, I was about to shuffle away in the other direction when suddenly Parker said "You know what? I would love to, but I promised Alba I'd take her out for some ice cream since she aced that history test I helped her study for."

I kind of wanted to hit him. Kinda. Because I didn't need his help to ace a history test; and also because in a way he was using me to avoid Penn and friends. But in the few seconds I had to analyze it also meant that he was really cool because he didn't want anything to do with Ginger Penn or her "ultra-hot" sister Kelly.

"Well…maybe Alba isn't up for it" Ginger said eyeing me. I read her expression: Don't you dare. I smiled and said, with as much sass as possible "Actually. I am totally up for it."

I turned around and saw Parker smirking at me as he opened the passenger's door for me "M'lady" he said jokingly as I let him take my hand and help me into his car. Just before he closed the door I waved good-bye (and good riddance) to Penn and friends.

Pretty soon Parker had started the engine and was reminding me to put on my seatbelt; and I was ever so grateful that he waited until the doors were closed to tell me.

"Are we really going for ice cream?" I asked turning to him as he began backing up. He was frowning as he said "If you want to. Are you lactose intolerant or something? I had to come up with something to say to those little clone bitches—oh, shit – damn it! I shouldn't be cursing in front of you." He banged his hand on the steering wheel.

I couldn't help but start laughing; he glanced at me and started laughing too. "Uhm. Yeah. So if I do this" he said quickly placing his hand over his ears then back on the wheel "That means cover your ears, okay?"

"Okay." I manage to say through my laughter. After some silence I finally said "Parker."

He nodded "Alba" and smiled at me.

And I guess that's how we properly introduced ourselves.

_Later:_

We went out for ice cream. I got a caramel sundae and he got the mudpie surprise. His name was Parker St. Thomas ("I was right!" I cried triumphantly when he told me) and he was a senior. And he was hoping to get into Michigan University since that's where his dad went. He wasn't sure what he wanted to study, but he wanted to get into Michigan.

I told him my name was Alba de Tamble and he looked at me curiously. He calmly adjusted his glasses and began poking at his chocolate ice cream. "Like…the…uhm…singer?" he asked.

I looked up at him "Yeah! Annette Lyn Robinson…I mean…she wasn't really known as De Tamble…but…"

He nodded "Yeah. I know. My grandmother worshipped the ground she walked on…shame about how she…died…" he whispered the last part. As if I didn't know.

"Yeah." I nod in agreement.

After a while I realized that he figured out I was a CDP. I guess his grandmother really knew a lot about my grandmother since he knew about my dad. He also said that he and his classmate did a paper about CDPs, but he didn't ask me about it anymore. Which I was thankful for.

When we finished the ice cream he drove me home. Upon stopping in front of my house he began to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"I can get the door." I said.

"Uh…I put it on child lock, child." He said chuckling as he climbed out of the car and opened my door for me.

"Thanks" I said as I climbed out "For the ice cream…and the drive."

"Sure. Think nothing of it, padawan. Study hard, yeah?" he said as he began to make his way back to his side.

"Yeah. You too."

He waited until I was in my house before driving off. I stood looking out of the window and watched as his car drove away.

"Alba? Is that you?" Mom was coming in from the kitchen, a wash towel in her hands and a knowing smile on her face. "Who was that?"

"Uh…a friend." I say nodding. "Yeah."

"A guy friend." She said smirking.

"Yes. A guy friend."

"With a car…"

"MOM!"

Saturday 31st of November, 2013 4:40 PM

**Alba: **Mom liked Parker a lot. She trusted him at least. Enough to let him baby sit me while she had a press conference for her book. We sat in the living room and I was trying to teach him how to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on my violin – he chose the song, not me.

"Put your finger…" I muttered adjusting his finger. "There. Got it."

"Yeees…I got it." He said shifting his position "And now just…"

"Gently…" I said making the gesture of moving the bow across the strings.

"Okay…Here it goes." He gave it a shot and produced a screeching sound. I covered my ears with my hand and he frowned and shook it his head. I began laughing.

"Yeah. Okay. Just laugh. Let's see you go at it." He muttered handing it to me. I took it from him and started playing Twinkle Twinkle then transitioned into Vivaldi's Four Seasons. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

"You're a real show-off, you know that." He said taking a cookie from the plate my mom left us.

"Yes. I do. Now play me the guitar."

"Finally." He said exaggeratingly shaking his hands in the air and picking up his guitar. "I haven't played in a while though…" he muttered plucking at a few of the strings.

"You can't be as bad a guitarist as a violinist." I said jokingly, putting down my violin and pulling my legs onto the sofa.

"Give me a song." He said looking at me. I shrugged and bit into a cookie. He scratched his head.

"Okay…so once upon a time…yours truly was head over heels in love with a" he put his hands over his ears. I laughed and copied the gesture. He mouthed *bitch*. I laughed even more "and I learned this song for her."

"Aw." I said.

"Aw…okay…_L…._oh, wait…uhh…" he adjusted the guitar again "okay…_L is for the way you look at me…O…you're the only one that I see…_I think that's right. Is that? Yeah…it's right. _V is very very extraordinary and E…is even more than anyone that you adore can…_You know what?"

"What?"

"I cannot remember what comes after that."

I started laughing "But you were on a roll!"

"I know…but…uhm…wait…Let me think for a while…okay…I got it. _And love is all that I can give to you…love is more than just a game for us two…"_

He was able to do the rest of the song without difficulty. I watched him sing and play guitar. It's like he was lost in it. At some points he would look up and smile at me and I felt my heart beat fast and my stomach churned. When he finished he looked up at me and smiled again.

"Verdict?"

You're beautiful. "I…not too good of a singer but your guitar skills are amazing." I said shrugging and picking up two cookies and handing him one.

"Thank you." He said accepting the cookie and putting his guitar down. This was it. I had to ask now or it would never come.

"Uhm…so…" I started.

"So…?" he asked.

"There's this…school thing. The Sadie Hawkins dance?"

"Mmm…I've heard of that." He said nodding thoughtfully "Anyone you had in mind? Need advice on how to ask the special guy?" he continued, playfully nudging my shoulder.

"No…I…was wondering if you would be my date." I shot it out as fast as I can. There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"Oh…"he whispered. I looked at him and his face had fallen. I suddenly felt stupid. Incredibly stupid. My face was burning and my eyes were starting to get wet so I tried rubbing at them. "Never mind…it was stupid." I tried to get up but I felt Parker take my arm and pull me down beside him.

"Hey. Don't. It's okay. I would be honored to, Hermes. I really would…it's just that I don't think it's totally appropriate if an eighteen year old took a twelve year old to her first dance, you know?"

I manage to nod but I can't help the tears from falling down my face. "Don't cry…" he whispered sadly, pulling me into a hug. After some moments he said "You know… I'm not the only guy, Alba."

"You're the only guy who'll talk to me…" I whisper miserably "…the boys in school don't ever talk to me."

"That's because guys your age are really stupid. Okay?" I pulled away from him.

"So are the guys in high school better?"

He shook his head slowly "Sorry…I wish I could say…"

"But what about you."

He chuckled and patted my head " I am of a rare breed, padawan."

"So that's it. I'll just be the freak of a girl none of the guys want to talk to…" I start crying again. But he takes my hands in his.

"Hey. Alba. No. I'll just be honest…there are many jerks in the world who are nowhere near as clever as you and they will feel…small and useless and will not give you a second look…"

"Thanks…" I mutter

"But. But…you will one day meet that one guy who will love you and your cleverness and your time travel gene and just everything about you and he will one day want you to bear his children and pass on your cleverness to your children. You will meet him, Alba. I promise. And when you do…I would very much like to meet him. Okay?"

"What if…that guy…is you…?" I whisper.

He smiled lightly and pinched my cheek "Well, we'll have no problem there if it is, right?"

I nod and begin to wipe the tears away from my face.

"So!" he cried clapping his hands together "Let's talk about the boy you'll bring to the dance!"

Wednesday, August 3rd, 2024, 1:20 pm

(Alba is 23, Pete is 26)

**Alba: **The waiting room was tiled with lime green, the only other color aside from the white of the walls and furniture. I glance around and a painting that hangs from the door catches my attention. It's a ship, and old ship, a galleon sailing on rough waters. The colors swirl together wonderfully; making the sea foam look like it's popping from the canvas. I shift in my seat wanting to stand to look at it better but then remember that Pete's head is slumped against my shoulder. My movement disturbs him and he jolts awake, his eyes dull and pink.

"Sorry…" I whisper squeezing his hand.

He shakes his head slowly and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand "It's fine. I was just about to wake up." We sat silent for a moment. Pete's head started to loll to the side again. Jet lag; he had just arrived from a brief press tour in Asia. It was really amazing how fast he sky rocketed. He jolted awake again and shifted his position n the white sofa.

"How much longer?" he asked, sounding like a five year old.

"Ten minutes, I think" I answer.

"So…how long has he been here?"

I take some time to answer "Around…two years."

"Does he have a family?"

"Yeah. His did lives a few hours away…he's got an older brother too…but he lives in California right now. It just got too hard."

"Yeah. I can imagine. When did it start?"

I realized that I hadn't really given Pete the whole story and I felt really stupid about it "About two years after he finished college. It just kept getting worse and worse…he couldn't even remember his own name."

My throat catches and I find myself lost for words. This was the first time I was visiting him in more than five years. He lived in Michigan, I was in Connecticut, and it was just hard. I tried to when I went home for holidays but it's hard, trying to catch up to old friends. The nurse comes in and smiles at us "He's ready for you."

I take a moment to stand. But Pete's hand in strong in mine as he pulls me up and leads me to follow the nurse. We're taken through a series of corridors before we stop at a room with the plastic numbers: 298. The nurse gently taps on the door and opens it lightly: "Parker, you've got some visitors." She sounds like she's talking to a child adding emphasis to "Parker" The door is opened wider and Pete and I follow her in.

I fight the sudden urge to start crying. His eyes are muddled with confusion, his curls have been cut, it looks neater. His entire face is tired as he smiles up at us gently. "Hello." He whispers.

"I'll leave you alone." The nurse said "If you need anything just call." After she had left Pete and I stood awkwardly in front of Parker's bed. This was not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to hug me and pinch my cheeks and interrogate Pete. But he sat in his bed looking up at us like he had never seen us before. There was not a single trace of familiarity in his gaze.

"Parker St. Thomas." I say, trying on a smile.

"So they tell me…" He answers in his smug manner. It was so very Parker that I find myself chuckling. His smile fades "I'm sorry that I don't remember you. I don't…remember much…"

"I know…I'm Alba de Tamble. We used to be very close friends. You baby sat me on several occasions."

"Oh…" he whispered "I didn't get you into any trouble, did I?"

"No, not at all. No." We're silent for a moment. I remember Pete hovering beside me when Parker's hazel eyes drift to him "This…" I say pulling Pete forward "this is Peter Hale."

"Hello, Parker." Pete said stepping forward and reaching out his hand. Parker took it hesitantly and shook it.

"I know you don't remember. But…I was once a very insecure little girl and I thought the world of you…and you told me that one day I would find someone who would love me…whatever happens, despite all my flaws…or intelligence…and you told me that when I did I should take him to you. So I have."

Pete was staring at me. A slow and happy smile forming on his face. I hadn't told him the reason for me wanting him to meet Parker. All I had said was that Parker was a dear friend who I wanted him to meet. Parker regarded Pete for a moment.

"This is him?" he asked.

"Yes." I said.

"He's skinny." Parker said simply tucking his hands in his blanket.

Pete chuckled "Right…I am working on that."

Parker nodded and smiled, he then reached over to his table and picked up a large notebook and a pen. "Would you please…write this down. I might not remember it…so…" he handed the notebook to Pete who took it and sat down at a nearby chair and flipped it open to start writing. Parker continued "There's a camera in the dresser. Call Jackie in, Alba. I want her to take our picture."

I went to the door and called the nurse back in the room to take a picture of us. The camera was a Polaroid she first took a picture of Parker and I; I took his hands and helped him shape it into the "Rock-on" hand sign. He looks up at me confused. "Don't worry." I tell him "We used to do this all the time." I take his right hand and my left hand and we link the "Rock-On" symbol: pointer to pointer and pinky to pinky. "Stick your tongue out…rock it!" I tell him. He laughs and does what I say. The camera clicks. Next are him and Pete who dorkily informs Parker "Do you know the Spider-man pose? We should do that. We're Peter and Parker" Parker absolutely loves this idea and they pose like Spider-Man. I pull out my digicam and take their picture too. The last one is all three of us. Parker happily throws his arms around our necks and pulls us close. The camera snaps.

When all the pictures have come out Parker slowly pastes them to his notebook where Pete has finished writing his short message. I take the notebook and try to write as much as I can about all the fun times we had before he left to study in Michigan. But then Pete's phone beeped and we had to get going. We all said our good-byes and I gave Parker a quick peck on the cheek. As we were leaving I feel a paper ball make contact with the back of my head. I spun around and saw him smiling smugly at me.

"Make sure you don't get any nightmares, Hermione." He says with that same expression I saw on his face many years ago. Pete is looking at us curiously. And I'm not sure what jogged the memory but I can't help a little tear run down my cheek as I say "See you soon, Tom."

Saturday 18th of November, 2013 9:05PM

(Alba is 12)

**Alba: **The lights were dimmed down a fraction and the music that was put on was slow. Couples dance. I had brought a partner to the dance, Andrew Malloy. But he had been allergic to something in the punch and had to be rushed to the hospital. Mom had called and asked if I wanted to be picked up but I said no. Now that I'm sitting alone watching all the couples go to the dance floor and have their first boy-girl dance I can't help but wonder why I didn't just go home.

My hand reaches for the little purse I brought so I can call mom and asked to be picked up when a tall boy with impossible curls was striding up to me. His hair was slightly gelled down so he looked neater but his curls still came out and he was wearing a dark grey suit and matching bow tie. "Parker?" I gasped.

"Yeahp. I may be late but I'm still here." He said grinning.

"What're you doing here?" I ask still in disbelief.

"Well…Ms. Davies called and said they needed a replacement chaperone since one of them had to rush a kid to the hospital and then right after that call was one from a Mrs. De Tamble who wanted me to check on her daughter. I put one and one together and realized that we should've done a background check on this Malloy kid."

I manage to laugh "How is he?"

"I hear he's doing fine. And his date?"

"Bored."

He purses his lips together and glances at the dance floor "You wanna…boogie…?"

My cheeks flush "It's a slow song."

"I won't have to move that much. You won't be too embarrassed" he said holding out his hand "C'mon, Hermione. It's a dance. One must dance."

I hesitantly take his hand and follow him to the dance floor. I see Ginger Penn glaring at me over her boyfriend's shoulder.

"I never realized how short you are." Parker suddenly says placing us is right hand just below my shoulder and holding my other hand in his.

"Shut up." I mutter rolling my eyes. We sway to the slow song. "You're not wearing your glasses…"

"I figured I could do without them for tonight." He says, his hazel eyes shining.

"It suits you…"

"Thank you. And you're looking absolutely pretty."

I glance down at the lavender dress mom and I bought "Oh, this old thing?" I say jokingly "I just pulled it from my closet last minute" We both laugh; a few couples throw us dagger looks.

"You're tiny. You wanna dance on my shoes or something…?" he says raising his eyebrows.

"Sure. Why not?" I say kicking of my heels and slowly climbing on his shoes. He takes a moment to balance himself "God, Alba. What did you eat?"

I punch him in the stomach and we both laugh and sway to the music. Pale blue confetti falls down over us echoing the snow outside. I look up expecting Parker to make a joke but he doesn't, he just smiles down at me and pinches my cheek. And it's only now that I realize that the song which we're dancing to is "L-O-V-E"


	15. Franc De Tamble Hale Pt 1

**AH! It's almost been a year since I last updated and I'm still getting favorites and reviews and I am so incredibly honored that you people still stick with this story. I will not abandon it. It will end properly, I promise. Each time I see a notification about this fic I am hit with inspiration and the need to finish it but it's been complicated because I've been tied up with other things (school and life in general) but never fear! This will definitely be a top priority from now on. **

**Please don't be afraid to private message me if you feel the need to say anything. Reviews are always appreciated aaaand I hope you guys enjoy!**

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Monday August 4th, 2031, 3:30pm

Pete is 32

**Pete: ** Charisse is watching me carefully. Her dark eyes studying me, waiting for how I'll react. My entire body is shaking and I lean against the countertop to balance myself.

"I'm sorry." She finally whispers.

"You can't keep doing this." I reply, trying my best to keep my voice in check.

"What are we supposed to say when he asks?"

"You say that he's not allowed!" I yelled, my fists were shaking as I turned to face her. Charisse scowled back, shaking her head.

"You're being irrational."

"You raised your kids already, okay? Franc is my child let me raise him how I want to." I snap back, the volume of my voice had risen. I stormed past Charisse, shoving the kitchen door out of the way. Just as I had past her she muttered "Alba wouldn't want this."

I froze. "Alba isn't here."

Thursday January 21st, 2044, 6:47pm

Pete is 45

**Pete: **I knock three times as I push the door open "Franc- Jesus Christ…" I mutter starring at the mess in front of me. Clothes and school books are scattered all over the room. Franc is by his closet, he looks at me and smiles "Hi…dad."

"What the hell is this? I thought you said you could take care of your room." I said gesturing towards all the junk on the floor.

He looked around him and shrugged "…stuff…"

"Clean this up." I moved forward and began picking up magazines and books off the floor. Franc let out a long breath and moved to help me. I made my way to his piled desk and pushed some papers to the side "Your hamster cage is empty…"

"He's with the socks." Franc replied moving to stand beside me.

I was about to turn to him and question why the hell his hamster was with the socks when I noticed something incredibly off. Franc stood beside me, arranging the books on his desk. I looked at his face for traces of exhaustion, the dark bags under his eyes were gone, and his mouth was tilted upwards in a smile instead of the usual somber expression.

I took his arm, he jumped a little. I ran my thumb over his right wrist and felt his pulse. Damn it. Shaking my head and letting his hand go I ask "Where're you from?"

He leans on the edge of his desk and shrugs "8 months ago."

"Fuck…I thought so." Franc watches me for a few seconds but I cut him off before he speaks "Clean your room."

"That's not fair!" he snaps. I watch the life in his eyes, and listen to the way his voice flair. I reach out and push the dark hair from his face. Jesus. I wish it could stay like this. Franc suddenly looks terrified as he whispers "What happens?"

"I can't tell you." I turn to leave the room, calling over my shoulder "Fix this mess up or future you will be grounded for a week."

There's no reply but I can hear him moving around the room to sort the mess. I make it to the hallway bathroom. My hands are shaking and my chest is painful. The sink is cold but a welcome support. I don't remember when it happens but then I'm suddenly sobbing. And I'm on the floor leaning against the cold tiles.

How the hell did I get here?

Friday July 10th, 2043 7:12pm

Pete is 44

**Pete: ** The classical music swells as I open the door to Franc's private in-house dance studio. I remember the day he asked for his mini-library to be lined with mirrors and install two ballet barres. Oh how time flies. I call out to him as I close the door behind me "Hey, Franc."

I turn around to face him.

Franc's is sitting in the middle of the room, once leg pulled up to his chest the other stretched out before him. He's panting, his back shaking from the sobs.

The plate in my hand drops to the floor, its contents and broken pieces scattering over the clean wooden floor. I run towards him, falling to my knees as I grab his shoulders.

"Franc. Hey. Are you ok?" He looks up at me, his face red and eyes wet with tears.

"It hurts…so…much…" he gasps in between sobs, pulling his knee closer to his chest.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. We'll see the doctor tomorrow, okay?" I try to console him, pulling him into a hug. I want to cry too. I try and push aside the sting in my chest. He reaches out, leaning his head on my shoulder. I'm not sure how long we're sitting there. It feels like hours…days even. His breathing slows down.

"You wanna get some ice cream…?" I whisper.

"I'm not really in the mood." He replies slowly, moving away from me before lying down on the floor.

I glance out the window before turning back to him. "Hmm…maybe I'll put on Hot Fuzz?" I raise my eyebrows at him. Franc looks at me, a small smile creeping into his face "Order some pizza?" he asks.

"Four cheese." I finish. His thin smile breaks into a huge grin. He moves to stand, I get up before him and hold my hand out for him to grab. He freezes and stares at my stretched out hand.

"Franc." I whisper urging him to take my hand. He slowly reaches out and takes it and I pull him up slowly. He winces as his knee stretches out. It's painful. Really fucking painful to feel his weight slumped against my shoulder as we make our way out of the room. He can barely stand on his own now.

"You'd think with all the new medical procedures they'd find a way to fix my knee." He mutters bitterly.

I squeeze his shoulder "Don't worry. The found a way to keep you here…they'll find a way to fix your knee." I wish I knew what I was saying and that I was a hundred percent sure about what I said. But I wasn't. And I hated that I wasn't.

For the rest of the night only one thought was in my mind. I wished future Franc could show up and tell me that it was all going to work out. I just needed everything to work out. For once in my life I just wish everything could work out. I wish…my hand reaches out and touches the pillow by my bed.

I wish Alba was here.

Monday August 4th, 2031, 3:37pm

Pete is 32

**Pete: **I storm out to the living room. My entire face felt as if someone had lit it on fire and my hands were shaking.

"Franc! Franc! We're leaving now!" I called. The sofa was empty. Shit. I had left him there. A lump came to my throat. "Where is he…?"

A splash. There was a splash from the backyard swimming pool. No. I run out to the pool and I can feel Charisse moving behind me.

Franc is in the water, splashing around. He smiles up at me "I wanna swim, daddy!"

"No! Get out of the water, Franc! Now!" I shout. Charisse is standing behind me "Franc. Do as your father says."

Franc pulls the floater around him closer. He's confused. And yeah, I can't blame him. I've never yelled at him before.

"Please! Get out of the water now!" my voice is rising to a higher pitch "You can't even swim!"

He stares at me for several seconds. I can almost see the gears in his brain shifting. His mouth forms into a straight line.

"Don't you dare." I mutter. Franc shakes his head. And then he let go of the floater pushing it away from his body. I watch as his small frame sinks under the water. Charisse is screaming. The next thing I know…I'm in the water.

I can feel it close in around me, pressing down on me. The chlorine stings my eyes and I push forward. The next thing I know, Franc is in my arms and I'm surfacing for air. Once we come up I pull him close, he's laughing under his breath. My entire body is shaking.

"I knew you could swim too." He whispers. I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying. I just held him close, rocking back and forth. "Mommy would be proud of you." He continues.

I look up into the sky. The cool blue almost stinging my eyes as I nod "She'd be proud of you too. You're just like her." I choke out. Just like her.


	16. Popping In and Out

_Is anyone still here? I sincerely doubt it and if you are here…oh, man. I feel really bad about not updating even though the last thing I wrote was that this would become top priority. To people still reading I am so very, very sorry for taking so long and I can't really give any excuse other than life happened. Which sucks because I would love to get a story or book published one day and I dunno if that'll happen if I don't keep writing._

_I want to finish this story so bad but I've let other things get in the way and I hate that. I wish I could promise more updates in the future, but that wouldn't feel right so all I will say is that I shall try my very, very best._

_Hope you guys like this:)_

_Kensey_

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Wednesday, December 19, 2012, 5:30pm

Alba is 11

**Alba: **"Wasn't that just the coolest thing ever?" I slung my backpack over my shoulder as I stood from my seat. Uncle Gomez turned around and grinned at me "Still the coolest? Even after 400 times?" he chuckled.

"It's only my 4th time." I shrugged as we joined the crowd exiting the theater. Everyone was chattering excitedly, the after effect of a good movie. "I could watch The Hobbit forever."

"I do not doubt it."

I loved the days when Uncle Gomez took me out to the movies after picking me up from school. At first it was hard watching the moving images in front of me, maybe the screen was too big or something, but I had always felt the sudden tingle meaning time travel was imminent. But then after a while I started to get the hang of anchoring myself and soaking up the experience.

We spent the walk to the grocery talking about the movie and then school came up afterwards. I wonder why adults are always so interested in school. As we turn the corner I see him.

"Dad?...DAD!" I run as fast as I can, I can hear Uncle Gomez scream after me as I dash across the street.

It's Dad! His arms are stretched out, waiting for me as I jump into them. "ImissyouImissyouImissyou…." I find myself saying into his neck. He lifts me from the ground and swings me around "I miss you too, kid."

He turns to Uncle Gomez as he puts me down. They smile at each other in acknowledgement, and give each other the one armed man hug. After some friendly chatter Gomez pats dad on the shoulder and says "I'll leave you with Alb. I'll be right over there." He gestures to the nearby bench.

Once he's gone dad takes my hand and leads me to the alley beside two buildings and smiles "How've you been?"

"Great! I've been great! The Hobbit just came out and it's-AMAZING!"

He laughs a little "Yeah, yeah. I saw the posters. I can't believe it, actually. Reading that book feels like…woah…ages ago."

"Duh."

We're both silent, staring at each other. I start to tell him all about it, knowing he probably won't be able to see it, the actors, their costumes, and the way everything was shot. It was beautiful. "I've seen it four times." He then starts to ask me about the tapes he left me, have I practiced my lock picking and such? Yes, dad, I have. Good.

"How's mom?" His eyes suddenly become sad. I take his hand as I say "She's been working a lot. She's got an exhibit next month. Maybe you can make it."

His smile is thin, the doubt in his eyes makes it seem like the heaviest smile in the world "Yeah, maybe." He then pulled me into his arms and gave me a small kiss "I love you, Alba."

"I love you too, Dad." I held him tight. And then I was just clutching his clothes.

Friday, March 3, 2017, 11:30pm

Pete is 21

**Pete: **Shit. It was starting up again. I could feel it in my head weighing me down. I hadn't eaten in around 3 days. Well, I hadn't felt like eating. "I'm so hungry." I mutter to no one but myself. Moving is getting too difficult. Just lying in bed is making me tired. I know exactly what's happening to me. It happened to my mom.

I think about mom more now. Way more than ever, actually. Maybe it's because my English professor brings her son to class. He's a little kid, maybe three or four years old with black hair and huge brown eyes. He doesn't do much but sit at her desk and doodle on paper. Sometimes I wonder if I miss my mom or miss the idea of a mom. I try to push it out of my head. It sucks thinking about too hard about things you can't change.

Just as I began to drift to sleep there's a sudden knock at my door. I groan as I roll off my bed and stumble around in the dark as I say "I'm not in the mood-" my sentence gets cut off as I fling open the door.

_What the hell?_ There's a kid in front of me. He looks about 15 or 16 with black hair and blue eyes. The clothes he's wearing consist of jeans, a red hoodie and a blue jean jacket. All of them a size or two too big for him. "Hey." He says grinning.

"Hey…" I mutter "Sorry, who're you?"

"Mike. I'm Floyd's cousin."

"Floyd's not here. He won't be here for the weekend."

"I know. He's at a family reunion. I'm on the way there from boarding school and my bus stopped here and my next one is in the morning and he said that I could crash here for the night."

I try and run through the week. Floyd never said anything about this. I tell the kid to sit tight and close the door on him. Maybe I should check my phone to see if I was texted or something. I stand motionless mulling it over. It'll be too much effort to throw around the furniture looking for it. My eyes begin to itch so I rub them and flip on the room light.

When I open the door the kid is still there.

"Okay. But know that if you're some fucked up psycho killer or something I have two lightsabers within arm's reach of my bed. Got it?"

He face becomes serious "Got it."

_Later:_

**Pete: **I don't remember who suggested watching a movie. I think it was Mike, whatever. We went through Floyd's burned DVDs found a movie and popped it into the flat screen TV slash DVD player we shared.

"This is like…the weirdest movie…" I muttered. It was called _Gentlemen Broncos_, it was _Big Fat Liar_ on crack…or yeast rather, the story is that this big shot guy steals a story from a kid and then eventually the kid finds out and stuff. But it's mostly about the life of the kid and scenes of the story that the kid wrote which was this sci-fi story about a yeast factory and gonads.

"It's great though, right?" Mike laughs.

"Mmm. In a kind of…."

"…_Napoleon Dynamite_ way?" He asks reaching for his backpack.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly." I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest.

I turn to him with a comment and watch him pull a joint and lighter from his bag. "Do your parents know you do that?" I ask as I watch him.

The joint is hanging from his lips as he grins "Yeah." He begins to light it "My dad's seen me do it." After he's had a good puff he passes it over to me. I don't usually smoke but right now…right now I could sure use some Mary Jane. I take it from him and take a deep drag. All I can think is…_shit, that's amazing…_I hold it in me and close my eyes. I let the chemicals take their effect before letting it out in a slow breath. I realize that Mike had just said something, "Sorry, what?"

"I said don't finish it." He repeats reaching for it. I take another drag before handing it back to him. We don't say anything until the end of the movie when Mike suddenly asks me "Do you really have two lightsabers?"

At this point my brain is pretty free flying high so I pull them out from under my mattress and show them to him. "Blue and green. They light up and everything." I turn them on and Mike lets out a gasp and takes the green one.

"Shit, this is awesome." What's left of the joint is now put aside in Floyd's ash tray as Mike begins swinging it around.

"Careful! It's not a toy." I snap.

"Sorry, man." He begins to hand it back to me as I jump up and my blue saber at his face. He moves fast and gets up on his feet. The next thing I know I'm standing on Floyd's bed in a deadlock. The only sounds in the room are our excited shouts, the _wump-wump-PSSSSH_ of the sabers and the credits of _Gentlemen Broncos. _And then I hear a crack. And then I'm on the floor. And my nose feels like it's on fire.

"Shit. Sorrysorrysorry." Mike drops beside me "You're bleeding man."

The front of my face feels wet. I touch it with the back of my hand which is soon covered in blood. "You don't fucking say…"

"I'm so sorry." He presses a cloth against my nose. It better not be Floyd's masturbation sock.

"It's cool. Shit happens." I manage to say. My head is resting on Floyd's bed. I take the cloth from Mike's hand. God, this hurts.

"I just got really into it." He sits beside me on the floor.

"Same."

"Maybe you should go to the clinic?"

"And say what? I broke my nose playing with a lightsaber in my dorm?"

He shrugs "Shit, man. It's a college clinic I'm sure they get this stuff all the time."

I laugh "It'll be fine. You just gotta-" before I can finish my sentence Mike leans forward and snaps my nose. "SON OF A BITCH FUCK SHIT! OW!"

"At least it's done with." We're silent for several minutes. When the bleeding has finally stopped I go and wash my face in the bathroom down the hall. By the time I get back the TV's off and Mike's in Floyd's bed, his legs pulled up to his chest.

"You don't look too bad." He comments.

"Thanks." I flop onto my bed and turn off my light. The room is suddenly flooded with darkness. We're both quiet. I can't help but gently press the bridge of my nose to see if there'll be any permanent damage.

"You should probably take that to the clinic later." Mike says.

"Yeah."

"Pete?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

There's a pause. I really dragged out pause and then he says "You're really cool."

"Yeah, I know."

"Good."

Saturday, January 6, 2018, 7:30pm

Alba is 17

**Alba: **I watch as Jeremy flings another snowball off the roof. We're standing on the roof of his apartment building and it's freezing. "You're insane."

He turns to me "You're just boring."

"Fuck you." I snort.

Jeremy is just like me, a CDP. It was pretty cool since now I knew someone other than dad and I who traveled. But Jeremy was amazing. He could control his traveling to a tee. He liked to call himself his own Tardis. He could go anywhere and at anytime he wanted. How about the moon? I'd ask. I'm working on it. He'd laugh.

"1920." I repeated.

"1920. Paris, France. You coming or not?"

I shake my head. God, he makes me feel like such a failure "No. That's too hard." Dunce.

"What's so hard about it? C'mon. We'll both land on the same street and time and date and it'll be so awesome."

"Yeah, for you. I'll probably wind up halfway and get stuck."

He runs towards me and grabs my shoulders "C'mon, Tink! Use your pixie dust and trust!"

"Not this time, Peter."

Jeremy shakes his head sadly. "Okay then. If you wanna follow it'll June 3rd, 1920 on rue Montagne St. Genevieve."

"Why June 3rd?"

"Why not?" He grins impishly and I watch as he slowly transports. And then he's gone and it's just his clothes.

"Maybe next time."

_Later: _

**Alba:** I wake up when something thumps beside my bed. My body automatically sits up right as I fumble for the light. It takes my eyes a while to adjust and when they do…

"JEREMY!"

Jeremy's lying by my bed. His pale skin is beginning to fade to grey. And his leg…I started screaming as I fell beside him, my blanket falling with me. It was red, red and sticky and wet; a huge chunk was torn from it. I start pressing my blanket against it all the while I can feel sobs choking me. I hear my door open and mom shouting.

"CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

She's way ahead of me, dashing for the nearest phone.

"Jeremy…Jerry…Hey can you hear me?" I manage to gasp.

His eyelids flutter and he mutters "Fucking dog."

A choked laugh comes from my mouth "You'll be okay."

"Thanks, Tink." He whispers.

The ambulance arrives 5 minutes later. Mom squeezes my hand as we watch him being wheeled away. I know what's going through her mind, what this reminds her off. We both begin to cry.

Wednesday, June 6, 2041, 8:00pm

Pete is 40

**Pete:** Movie night. I love movie night. It started when Alba and I were dating and she insisted on watching a movie every single Wednesday night. We watched anything and everything. From comedies to heavy dramas to pornos even. I didn't do the pornos anymore.

"Popcorn's coming!" I call out to the den where Franc is setting up the movie. I walk by a picture of Alba on the way out of the kitchen and feel the little hitch in my chest. "One day." I mutter to it.

When I get to the den I place the two bowls of popcorn and huge tumblers of coke on the coffee table. That's when I see the movie we're watching.

"Oh, hey! _Gentlemen Broncos_! Man, it's been ages since I've seen this."

"Cool beans." Franc mutters as he takes a hand full of popcorn and flops on the couch.

"I have the coolest story about this…" I say turning towards Franc. He looks up at me, his face curious but his eyes…his eyes were saying something else. And then WHAM! Right in the nose!

"You little shit…" I whisper.

"Hmm?" Franc says innocently, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth. I pick up a pillow and smack him in the face. He's laughing now. "You little…You do pot?"

"Just that one time…and the first time." He's still laughing.

"You think it's funny?"

"What? I told you my dad knew about it."

I can't help the laugh "God…never again, okay?"

"What? Never ever?"

Damn, I couldn't say that. I did pot for crying out loud. I scratch my head "Only three times a year. Deal?"

"Three joints?"

"Yeah."

He considers me for a moment "Deal." We shake on it.

"And not ever in front of me again." I sit down beside him.

"Aw, man. You're really fun to get high with though."

"You broke my nose the last time so…"

Franc starts to laugh. "It turned out okay."

"Shut up and watch the movie."

He smiles and turns back to the TV. I feel betrayed a little and like a bad father even. But I can't help but smile as well.


End file.
